


Slowly Spirals

by kesdax



Series: Natural Selection [4]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-09 00:04:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 72,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1961301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesdax/pseuds/kesdax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sameen Shaw is just starting to get the hang of this relationship game. Then everything else starts to slowly spiral out of control. Sequel to <i>Natural Selection</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set a few weeks after the epilogue to _Natural Selection._

Root hated the warmth of the hot summer sun. It reminded her of home, of summers spent sweating in the library because the air conditioning had broken again, of watching her mother drink spiked iced tea before she scolded her for being out of the house all day and _where have you been, I needed you here._

Maybe it felt hotter than it was because she had been suffering the freezing temperatures in the heart of Russia for the past four days, but the sun beat down on her as if it was purposefully trying to burn her and her alone.

It was a relief to step inside the apartment building, much cooler than outside, dipped in shadow and smelling dusty. Smelling of home. Root climbed the stairs two at a time, her eagerness for a shower and a warm bed fuelling every step.

She wasn't sure what time it was, mid-morning at some point, but the Machine kept her right. She had been jumping between time zones so frequently recently that her body was left feeling constantly exhausted. The boys weren't fairing much better, and all four of them were getting good at catching some shut eye whenever they could, sleeping rough or in the back of vans as one of them drove to the next relevant number. Root had gotten so used to hearing the boys’ snoring it was almost a comfort.

But nothing was better than coming home to a warm bed. And Shaw's curves and slender body was much nicer to curl up next to than the lanky and pointy bones of Daniel and Daizo. But they made do, because they had a job to do. Because the Machine told them to.

Root wasn't expecting anyone to be home when she inserted her key into the lock, but when she opened the door she was met with sound of arguing from within. Root shut the door behind her and followed the noise, finding Shaw by the bathroom, a gun in one hand and the other pounding on the bathroom door. Coming home to the sight of Sameen Shaw with a gun in her hand wasn’t unusual. It was almost comforting in a way. Except the gun was usually pointed at Root and not being used to coerce an eleven year old.

"Gen, open the damn door," Shaw demanded, smacking her palm against the wood for emphasis.

"No!" Gen called.

"Fine," Shaw snapped and Root knew what she was about to do, saw the way Shaw levelled the gun, aimed at the lock, and decided it was time to intervene. At the rate Shaw was going, they were never going to get their safety deposit back.

"What are you doing?" said Root, crossing her arms and frowning at the other woman in disproval.

Shaw whipped around, gun raised as if an intruder had just walked in, but she lowered it when she saw Root, letting out a sigh of exasperation. "Don't do that," she muttered.

Root ignored the annoyed scowl she always received whenever she managed to sneak up on the other woman and raised her eyebrows pointedly.

"Gen locked herself in the bathroom," Shaw explained, slamming her fist against the door again.

"And your immediate response was to pull a gun out?" Root asked sardonically.

"I don't see you coming up with any better ideas," Shaw grumbled, but she tucked the gun behind her back and into the waistband of her jeans with a sheepish look on her face. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought you weren't back until tomorrow."

"Change of plans," Root said vaguely, moving past Shaw to get to the bathroom door and knocking on it softly. She was far too tired for this, could feel the fatigue creeping into every inch of her body, pricking at her eyes and making them itch. But she really wanted to have a shower before going to bed and knew they'd be here all day if she let Shaw carry on the way she was going.

"Go away," said Gen sullenly through the door.

"Gen, it's Root. Can I come in?"

"Is _she_ there?" Gen asked putting as much loathing into the word ‘she’ as possible. Root caught sight of Shaw clenching her teeth from the corner of her eye and knew that she had an acerbic response on the tip of her tongue.

"No," said Root, gesturing for Shaw to vacate the area, "she's gone."

Shaw grumbled for a moment before shuffling off into the living room and throwing herself onto the couch in a huff.

Gen opened the door a crack and peered out, only opening it further and letting Root in when she was sure Shaw was nowhere in sight. Root shut the bathroom door behind her and sat on the floor opposite Gen, stretching her legs out so they were side by side with Gen’s.

Root waited the girl out, noting the dried tear stains down her cheeks and the way she carefully avoided Root's eyes as she sniffled.

"You want to tell me what happened?" Root asked eventually when it became evident that Gen wasn’t going to be forthcoming without some prodding.

“ _She_ started it,” said Gen resentfully, crossing her arms and jutting out her jaw angrily. It was a fabulous impression of a grouchy Shaw, Root thought, the resemblance so uncanny that Root struggled not to laugh.

Her lips twitching, Root asked, "Started what?"

Gen shrugged.

Root tried not to roll her eyes. She should have questioned Shaw first, but she doubted she would have been more forthcoming than the kid.

"Gen..." said Root warningly.

Gen sighed. "She won't let me get a new outfit for Evan's party."

"Who's Evan?" Root asked, frowning in confusion.

"From downstairs," Gen explained.

"The scrawny kid with the curly hair?" Root asked, vaguely remembering seeing him in the hallway once or twice and that time he had almost run Shaw over with his bike out on the street.

"He's the most gorgeous boy I've ever seen," said Gen longingly.

"Ah," said Root, everything starting to make sense and once again had to stop herself from laughing. Gen's tastes left a lot to be desired, Root thought, but then again, attending an all-girl school didn't give her a lot of options.

"And Shaw said I was being dumb for wanting something new to wear," Gen continued.

 _Of course she did,_ Root thought, _Sameen Shaw being as blunt as a hammer as usual._

"How about I take you?" said Root.

Gen looked at her hesitantly for a moment and Root realised that this was the first time they had ever been alone together without Shaw or Harold hovering nearby. She felt a little awkward for a moment, wondering if she was playing this right, if Gen was going to reject her offer. But then Gen smiled warmly and wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve. "Okay," Gen said eventually. "But I'm still not talking to Shaw," she added childishly.

Root rolled her eyes and nudged Gen's leg affectionately with her knee until she got up. She followed Gen out of the bathroom, the kid dashing to her room to fetch a pair of shoes.

Shaw was lying on the couch when Root went into the living room, playing absently with a loose thread on the hem of her shirt and glaring up at the ceiling. Root leaned over the back of the couch and waited with more patience than she felt for Shaw to look at her.

“We’re taking Gen shopping.”

Shaw pressed her lips together tightly. “We?”

“I’m too tired to drive,” Root explained and dangled a set of keys in front of the other woman’s face. She was also feeling a little resentful that she wasn’t going to get to her bed anytime soon, and it seemed only fair that Shaw was made to suffer too. This wasn’t the first argument between the two she had been witness to, but it was the first one she had had to intervene in, and Root wasn’t sure how best to handle it. Sometimes it felt like all three of them were floundering with this new living arrangement.

Not that things had been easy before Gen moved in. It seemed like Root and Shaw were just starting to find their feet when the eleven year old arrived and turned everything upside down again. Root noticed it in the way Shaw seemed more hesitant around her, and she played up the grumpiness like it was shield, like she was trying to prove something.

“Is that Finch’s Jaguar?” Shaw said, eying the keys suspiciously.

Root nodded.

“He know you have it?” Shaw asked with a frown, but Root could tell the idea of driving one of Finch’s sports cars was wearing her down.

“Nope,” said Root.

Shaw sighed, snatching the keys out of Root’s hand. “Fine, but I don’t get why she needs a new outfit anyway.”

“Just because _you_ wear nothing but black and only own five outfits,” said Root, trying to keep her temper in check, “doesn’t mean everyone else has to.”

Shaw scowled. “Whatever,” she muttered. “But I’m _not_ getting out of the car,” she added childishly.

Root rolled her eyes and knew it was going to be a long day.

*

“I did not sign up for stroppy teenager, Finch,” Shaw grumbled into the phone. She was sitting in the car, sunglasses covering her eyes to block out the summer sun, one hand tapping impatiently on the steering wheel as she waited for Root and Gen to get back. _How long does it take to buy_ one _stupid outfit?_

“Neither did I, Miss Shaw,” Finch replied absently and she could tell he was fussing with his books or his computers or something. “But there’s not much we can do until they’ve finished refurbishing the dormitories... Unless you’d rather have her out on the street?”

“No,” said Shaw sullenly. She wasn’t that cruel. But she still didn’t like it. Finch’s grand plan for taking Gen in over the summer, claiming that it wouldn’t be an inconvenience, was slowly backfiring and Shaw was feeling more than a little resentful that she was playing babysitter twenty-four hours a day.

“She could always stay with me again,” Harold suggested, “but we both know how well that turned out the first time.”

“Yeah,” said Shaw with a smirk, “who knew you’d be afraid of a pre-teen, Finch?”

“Yes, well…” Finch cleared his throat. “Given her… bodily changes, perhaps it’s best if she stays with you. You _were_ a teenage girl once… I think,” he added distractedly.

“Why did that sound like an insult?” Shaw asked cynically, her brow creasing. But Finch ignored her and she wondered briefly if he was even still listening to her. She could hear Bear whining in the background and thought she would rather have him staying with her than the kid. At least Bear didn’t argue back. Then she felt a brief flash of guilt and sighed resignedly. The kid wasn’t so bad, for the most part, when she wasn’t talking or eating everything in the apartment as if it were all self-replicating. She also rather suspected Finch was enjoying himself, watching her suffer, and he had made more than one comment in recent weeks about how Gen was “helping her grow as a person” as if that was Shaw’s biggest concern in life.

“You are so not paying me enough for this, Finch,” Shaw complained.

“I’m not paying you for this at all,” Finch remarked. “You’re doing it out of the kindness of your heart. _Remember?”_

The kindness of her heart included full access to Finch’s garage and a fully stocked bar at the library - top shelf of course. And preferably not at the same time. Finch’s words, not hers.

“Speaking of which,” Finch added crossly, “tell Miss Groves I know she took the Jaguar.”

The all access did not extend to Root and Shaw glanced about the car ruefully. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Finch,” she said innocently.

Harold hummed like he didn’t believe her. There was still a lingering resentment there, between Root and Finch. Most of it was on Finch’s part, but Root didn’t help herself by pissing him off whenever she could. The car theft being only one of many ways in which Root liked to get under his skin.

“If she’s bothering you so much,” said Finch and it took Shaw a moment to realise he was back to talking about Gen, “you can always bring her to the library. The history section needs re-catalogued and the entire place hasn’t had a good dusting in about four years.”

“You’re giving her chores?” Shaw asked, although it didn’t sound like a bad idea.

“I could write a list,” Harold suggested.

“Make sure it’s a long one,” Shaw said and hung up when she saw Root walking down the street.

"Finally," Shaw exclaimed when Root got into the passenger seat. "What took you so long?"

"She had to try on _everything_ ," Root explained.

"Where is she?" Shaw asked, glancing out the window in frustration.

"She insisted on paying for it herself," said Root, folding her arms and closing her eyes.

"With Finch's credit card," Shaw muttered, shaking her head in annoyance.

“Come on, Shaw,” said Root wistfully, “don’t you remember the first time you fell in love with a boy?”

“No,” said Shaw flatly. “Why, do you?”

“I never liked boys,” said Root with a smirk, leaning into Shaw and leering until Shaw shoved her away lightly, but not before Root managed to give her quick peck at the corner of her mouth.

"Did you call Finch to complain again?" Root asked, noticing the phone still in Shaw’s hand.

"No," Shaw lied, but Root eyed her knowingly. "By the way, he knows you took the car."

Root shrugged nonchalantly, clearly not bothered at all about Finch’s reaction to her grand theft auto. Shaw tapped her fingers impatiently on the wheel again, muttering for Gen to hurry up.

Root looked at her sideways. "Next time you guys get into an argument, can you do it with less theatrics?"

"That's easy for you to say, you're never here," Shaw complained. She realised how that sounded and looked away, but she caught the small smile playing across Root's lips.

"Okay, I'll just stop chasing down relevant numbers then," said Root. Shaw glanced at her; she had her eyes closed again and it was the first time Shaw had properly looked at her since the hacker got back. Shaw noted the bags under her eyes, the hard line of her mouth, the way she slumped in her seat - she looked exhausted and Shaw wondered how many more relevant numbers the Machine was going to send her after before it finally took its toll on the other woman.

"How was the number anyway?" Shaw asked.

"Uneventful," Root said elusively and Shaw wondered what that meant. It wasn't like she was looking for a play by play, but it would be nice to know what was going on once in a while. She used to do that job after all, chasing down terrorists for the Machine under the guise of the government. She knew how dangerous it could be.

"Stop it," Root muttered.

"What?" said Shaw, frowning at the other woman.

"Watching me sleep," said Root, opening one eye slightly to glare at her.

"Annoying, isn't it?" said Shaw, who had woken up on more than one occasion to find the other woman staring at her as she slept.

"You know what else is annoying?" said Root and Shaw hummed non-committedly. "You talking."

Shaw scowled and looked out the window for Gen again. There was still no sign of her and Shaw found her attention wandering back to the woman in the passenger seat, not quite asleep yet but getting there and Shaw realised she could have done without the shopping trip and playing referee to her argument with Gen.

"You look tired," Shaw commented quietly.

"Why do you think I'm trying to sleep?" Root mumbled.

"Root..." said Shaw warningly because that wasn't what she meant and Root knew it.

Root sighed heavily and sat up straighter in her seat, opening her eyes and staring steadily at Shaw as if to prove a point. She looked like crap and Shaw had no qualms pointing it out, but Gen appeared before she could.

"What the hell took you so long?" Shaw snapped, harsher than necessary. She could feel Root giving her a scolding look, but she ignored it.

"I'm not talking to you," Gen fumed and slammed the door shut, enclosing them all in the car and the oppressing silence that followed.

Shaw gritted her teeth and started the car. As far as she was concerned, summer couldn't end fast enough.

Shaw took her irritation out on the New York City traffic, banging on the horn and flipping off one particular asshole that cut across her going around a corner. They were about a block away from their apartment building when Finch called and told them to come to the library.

“What happened to my day off, Finch?” Shaw grumbled.

“We should go,” said Root, her voice low and serious, head tilted to the side slightly. She had been dosing, but now she looked wide awake as she stared blankly ahead of her. Shaw glanced at her, knowing instinctively that she was receiving information from the Machine, and did a sharp U-turn on the road, tires screeching. A guy in a BMW blared his horn at her as she narrowly missed him, but Shaw ignored him and carried on in the direction of the library.

“We’re on our way, Finch.”

*

"What's up boys?" Shaw asked, strolling into the library, Root and Gen trailing along behind her. Harold was sitting at his customary place, surrounded by computers, Reese by his side as if he were standing guard over him. They both looked up when the three of them entered.

Harold looked past her until his eyes landed on Gen, staring at her hesitantly. “Perhaps, Gen could take Bear for a walk around the block a bit?”

Although Gen loved Bear as if he were her own, her look darkened at Finch’s suggestion, clearly not wanting to miss what the four of them were about to discuss. Shaw could tell Gen’s usual protest was hot on her lips and she glared at the girl.

“Just go,” Shaw snapped before Gen could start whining.

“Fine,” Gen huffed, grabbing Bear by the collar and stomping out of the library.

"Enjoying your day off, Shaw?" Reese asked, his eyes crinkling in amusement as he watched Gen leave.

Shaw chose to ignore him and turned her attention to Finch. "What's going on, Harold? We get a new number?"

"Not exactly," said Finch, standing up awkwardly and waiting until he was sure Gen was out of earshot before speaking. "I've just been informed by my contact in the Department of Corrections that John Greer has been released from prison."

Shaw stared at him for a moment. She hadn't even known they had a contact in the Department of Corrections. Then she glanced at Root, who looked like this wasn't news to her and Shaw realised the Machine must have told her on the way over.

"How?" asked Shaw.

"Some sort of technicality," Finch explained vaguely.

"Not surprising," said Reese with a shrug, "considering he was set up."

They all looked at Root then. Root and the Machine had orchestrated Greer's arrest and prosecution as smoothly as if he had actually committed the crime, made it look like it wasn’t his first offense so he would do more time. It had been cleverly crafted, so much so that not even the best lawyers in New York City could fight it. Until now, apparently.

But now with Greer out, Shaw worried what that would mean. John Greer did not seem like a man who would let sleeping dogs lie, who would let his enemies bask in their victory whilst he suffered and withered away. Without their leader, Decima Technologies had been stumbling along blindly, developing more legitimate tech than Samaritan ever was. But with Greer out and back at the helm, did that mean Decima were on their way to building a second Samaritan? It was a thought that chilled Shaw, sent an unpleasant tingling sensation down her spine, and she remembered those days on the run, hiding and wondering, bored and alone waiting for the next bad thing to happen.

"We don't know," said Finch when Shaw voiced her concerns about a second Samaritan. They all looked at Root again but she remained silent, eyes downcast and Shaw wondered if she was remembering, remembering how she had almost killed Greer but couldn't. Maybe she should have, Shaw thought. _Maybe I should have taken out more than his kneecaps._

"We all expected this day to come," Finch continued. "But I'll admit, not quite so soon."

"So what do we do?" Shaw asked, her trigger finger itching for a fight.

"Couldn't hurt to keep an eye on him," Reese suggested and Shaw agreed, offering to take first watch. "Isn't that a little dull for you?" Reese asked, his eyes twinkling knowingly. Shaw liked doing recon, but staking out an old British guy wasn't on her list of fun things to do. However, they hadn't had a new number in days and Shaw was starting to go a little stir crazy from boredom. She could do with a change of scenery.

"Anything to get out of the house," Shaw muttered, thinking about the most recent argument with Gen. Probably not her finest moment, the way she had handled that. But at least Root had appeared before she did something stupid, Shaw thought, glancing at Root again and wondering why she was so quiet.

Gen appeared then, Bear snapping at her heels. "What are you guys talking about?" she asked and Shaw knew she had been listening, wondered if she had even bothered taking Bear out at all. The kid never did what she was told, which is what the majority of their arguments had stemmed from lately.

"Ah, Miss Zhirova," said Harold brightly, ignoring Gen's question and limping over to his desk. "I've got some tasks for you." He picked up a scrap of paper and handed it over to the young girl.

Gen took it hesitantly, scrunching her nose up when she read what was on it. "You know this is slave labour, right?"

Harold stared at her for a moment, as if unsure how to respond, but then Root coughed slightly and gestured to Gen's bag of shopping, paid for with Finch’s credit card, that she had unceremoniously dumped at her feet when she had walked into the library. That coupled with Shaw's glare got her moving.

"Fine," she moaned, stomping out of sight once again.

"Nice to see your charm's wearing off on her, Shaw," Reese deadpanned.

Shaw glared at him. "I'll call if I find something," she said to Harold.

"Perhaps you should take the town car," Finch suggested before she could leave. "The Jaguar is a little conspicuous," he added, looking at Root pointedly as if to tell her to put it back where she found it. Root just smirked at him.

"Right," said Shaw and handed over the keys for the Jag to Root. Root smiled at her, their fingers brushing together briefly and Shaw wanted to say something, ask if she was okay, give her that welcome home she hadn't had a chance to yet and then order her home to bed. Shaw didn't say anything though, not with the guys standing nearby, watching them carefully. But Root smiled knowingly all the same, it that eerie way she had as if she could tell what Shaw was thinking. It used to creep her out, it _still_ creeped her out, but it was easier, Shaw had to admit, easier than having to voice everything aloud for everyone to hear.

But that didn't necessarily mean that Root was always listening to her.


	2. Chapter 2

Root waited until Shaw had left, waited until Reese made his goodbyes and headed off to get some sleep so that he'd be refreshed enough to take over watching Greer later that night. She felt a bit envious of him for a moment, wishing she could follow his lead as the tiredness continued to itch at her eyes. But she didn't. Instead she hovered by the bookcase containing Harold's rare first editions and waited for the billionaire to notice her.

"Miss Groves?" said Harold, looking at her curiously. There was a bit of wariness there too. It never really left his eyes whenever he looked at her, as if he were afraid, as if he were expecting her to do something dangerous. It was getting a little old, Root thought, the way he continued to outright refuse to trust her. Even John had warmed up to her a little, although she suspected that was more for Shaw's sake than anything else. Mostly they just ignored each other and that suited them both fine. But with Harold it was different. With Harold it was like a constant battle of wills, one they were both equally matched at and neither one of them willing to give a little.

"Was there something else you needed?" Harold asked with forced politeness as he sat behind his computers.

"Yes actually, there was," said Root sweetly, pushing herself off the bookshelf and moving towards Harold's desk, smirking when he instinctively leaned backwards away from her. She fingered one of the dusty old hardbacks sitting by the computer monitor, a copy of _The Divine Comedy_ and she wondered absently if this was Harold's idea of a little light reading. "Trying to figure out which circle of hell you belong in, Harold?" Root asked.

Harold's expression remained neutral and he glanced at the book briefly before his eyes rested on her once again. "I don't think sin is ever that simple," he said and she wondered if he counted his sins, if he counted and catalogued them like she did her own, locked them away inside of himself until they were hidden out of sight.

"You're probably right," she agreed and pushed the book away with the tip of her finger.

"What is it that you want, Miss Groves?" Harold asked, impatience clear on his face. He didn't like her games, he never had, and she knew if she dragged this out like a cat plays with a mouse she would get nothing from him.

"Information," Root said.

"Well you've certainly come to the right place," he said, gesturing to the shelves stacked with books.

"This isn't the kind of information I can get from a book," Root said, but Harold already knew that and she thought briefly that perhaps he was playing a game with her too. "Last year," Root continued, "you received the number of a 911 operator."

"Yes, I remember," said Harold with a frown. She had his full attention now, she could see.

"Tell me about the man on the phone."

"Why?" asked Harold.

Root shrugged. "Curiosity."

Harold pressed his lips together and she could tell he didn't believe her. "There's nothing to tell. The man's a ghost."

"Yes, I know," said Root. "But every ghost has a story."

"Not this one," said Harold, turning away from her to look at his computer screen. "At least not one that I can find."

"But you have looked?" Root asked, already knowing the answer.

"And found nothing," Harold replied. "There are mentions of a hacker with our man's particular skill set on the darknet. But every trail seems to lead to a dead end."

"Yes," Root agreed. She had looked too, traversed the maze he carefully weaved, always so close but never quite able to catch up. He was good at covering his tracks, this ghost.

"You've encountered him, haven't you?" said Harold. He was looking at her again, his eyes tinged with concern that wasn't for her. She didn't answer him, instead looked beyond him somewhere, thinking of the invisible man who had ran rings around them both.

Because that was what he was. Invisible. No matter how hard she tried to find him, he was never there. But she didn't tell Harold this, didn't tell him how her last three numbers had been interfered with, how this man who did not exist had somehow managed to fool both her and the Machine.

She hadn't taken it seriously the first time. The Machine had been so quiet, leaving her to rely on her old skills to track down and stop the number. She had thought it had been a test, a test of her wills and how well she could work with the boys. A test she had thought she had failed when the number got away, until she realised it wasn't a test at all. Until it happened again.

After the second time she had started to dig a little deeper. The two numbers had nothing in common, apart from the fact that they were both terrorists and that each of them had made deposits of fifty thousand dollars into offshore accounts two days after Root had received their numbers from the Machine. It wasn't a coincidence, Root was sure of it, but when she tracked the money it seemed to disappear, just like their ghost, until she could find neither one of them.

But it was this last number that made her take it seriously, made her realise that she might be in over her head. When she thought about it now, she remembered how cold it had been, how the four of them had barely escaped with their lives and, once again, their number getting away. And the Machine, the Machine so quiet that Root wondered if She was even listening anymore. It was there, in the freezing cold temperatures of Russia, icy wind whipping at her face as she shivered uncontrollably from something that wasn't just the cold that Root decided she had to find this ghost, find him no matter the cost.

"How do you catch a ghost, Harold?" Root asked distantly, not expecting him to answer.

"I don't think you can, Miss Groves," Harold replied.

*

Shaw made a pit stop at the safe house before going to watch Greer. Reese had left the camera there after their last number and she figured if she was going to be doing a boring job, she could at least do it with some decent tech. Team Nerd (as Shaw so unaffectionately referred to them as) had been staying there between numbers for the past few months. Finch saw them as an additional asset, but Shaw just thought they cluttered up the place and got in her way. Today was no exception and there was a scathing remark hot on her lips when she bumped into someone as she was entering the apartment.

Shaw snapped her mouth shut when she realised that the person was neither one of Root's team or indeed male for that matter.

"Hello," said the woman breathlessly, as she fixed the straps of her flimsy red dress, six-inch heels in one hand.

Shaw said nothing, just stared at her blankly until the woman coughed slightly and then made her escape down the hallway. She looked oddly familiar, Shaw thought, and she tried to place the tall woman, her brunette hair shoulder length and slightly curled, but found that she couldn't. Instead she shrugged it off and slammed the door to the safe house shut behind her only to be met with the sight of Jason Greenfield in nothing but his boxer shorts and a bowl of cereal in his hands.

"Bringing your one night stands to the safe house now?" she asked coldly.

He just smirked at her and slurped the remainder of the milk out of his cereal bowl. She realised then why the woman had seemed so familiar. She had looked like Root, and Shaw wondered absently if Jason had been aware of that when he had picked her up in whatever dive bar he had been in last night.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Jason asked, dumping his empty bowl on the dining table. It was a miracle he had found a spot for it, considering it was covered in empty take out boxes, half-finished cans of Redbull and what she was pretty sure was a laptop that was probably going to get lost amongst all the rubbish if they weren't careful.

"Getting this, if you must know," Shaw said as she picked up the camera from where Reese had left it.

"Got another irrelevant number?" Jason asked, his tone nothing but scorn. Shaw ignored him, just like she always ignored him when he liked to gloat that he was chasing down relevant numbers and she wasn't. “You would have liked Russia,” Jason continued. “Freezing – but we just curled up nice and close.”

Shaw knew exactly what ‘we’ he was referring too and glared at him.

Jason smirked. “Not jealous are you, Shaw? Oh wait,” he added mockingly, “you don’t do jealous, do you? You don’t do anything.”

Shaw clenched her hand tight around the camera, fighting the urge to punch him and wipe the smug look off his face. It was tempting though, tempting to just let the anger take over, let it loose and see how much damage it could do. But she didn’t, she reigned it in, thought of Root and how pissed off she would be if Shaw hurt one of her little pets, and managed to keep herself under control.

“Just get this place cleaned up before Finch sees it,” she said coolly.

Jason smirked at her again, thinking he had won this round, and she left before she could do something she would regret.

She passed Daniel on her way out and he looked at her apologetically as if he knew exactly what their little squabble had been about. But she ignored him too and slammed the door to the safe house shut behind her.

By the time she made it to Greer’s condo the anger had dissipated a little, but she still yearned for some action, some number’s kneecaps to take her irritation out on. She wasn’t so lucky though and she spent hours photographing the people going in and out of Greer’s building, sending the pictures to Fusco to see if they were just innocent civilians or if they had some link to Greer.

“How many more of these are you going to be sending me?” Fusco complained over the phone when he called to give her the results of her latest batch of photos.

“As many as it takes, Lionel,” Shaw replied distantly, her eyes on the doorman as he glanced behind him and then stepped inside of the building.

“You do know I have actual work to do here, right?” Fusco continued. “I don’t just sit around all day waiting for one of you guys to call.”

But Shaw was only half listening to him as she watched the doorman reappear, holding the doors open for someone to pass through them.

“Bingo,” said Shaw when she saw someone with familiar grey hair step out of the building.

“What?” said Fusco.

Shaw hung up on him before he could continue whining and took the first of many snapshots of John Greer as he limped to his car, walking stick in one hand and what looked like a personal body guard holding on to his left arm as Greer was guided into the back of the car. At least she had left him a permanent reminder of their last encounter, Shaw thought proudly.

The car pulled out onto the road and she made sure to follow it at a safe distance. They didn’t go far, only a few blocks before Greer’s SUV was pulling up outside a Bank of America.

Shaw parked a little ways down the street and watched as Greer’s bodyguard helped him out of the SUV and into the bank. About ten minutes later, they both reappeared. Instead of returning to their vehicle though, they crossed the street and entered a coffee shop, one of those chains that Shaw hated.

Shaw debated getting out of the car and taking a walk past the coffee place, wondered if it was worth the risk of getting made. But the bodyguard made the decision for her when he stepped out onto the street. She stayed in the car, took a few photos of him as he walked up the street a little bit and into a drycleaners. He came out a few minutes later with what looked like a freshly cleaned suit and headed back to Greer in the coffee shop.

Shaw sighed heavily. Okay, so maybe having to deal with a surly preteen might have been better than watching Greer and his lapdog run a few errands. But her instincts told her that Greer was one to watch. She didn’t trust him to lay low now that he was released from prison, now that he no longer had Samaritan. Shaw didn’t trust him one bit and she wondered how much of this running about town doing errands was just an act.

Greer and his bodyguard didn’t go anywhere else after the coffee shop, and Shaw followed them back to Greer’s condo and spent another few hours watching the building, bored out of her mind.

“Having fun, Shaw?” said Reese over the earpiece. Shaw glanced up the street and saw him walking towards her car.

“Nope,” she said in a bored voice.

“Well, maybe the nightshift will be more interesting,” Reese said hopefully.

“Don’t count on it,” said Shaw. Reese got into the passenger seat, his eyes on Greer’s building. “Not unless you call an eighty year old woman making out with her dog or an overly affectionate teenage couple arguing interesting.”

Reese shrugged noncommittally as said teenage couple walked out of the building in the midst of a blazing row. “Like watching a soap opera,” Reese said flippantly.

Shaw narrowed her eyes at him and handed him the camera. “Have fun,” she said and got out of the car.

“I’ll call you if I find something,” Reese said optimistically, making himself comfortable.

*

The last of the light was just starting to dim when Shaw got back to the apartment, leaving the city a dull, washed out grey, matching her mood.  Root was lying on the couch when she walked in, reading a book. Shaw was a little surprised to see her, expecting the other woman to be fast asleep by now.

"Didn't think you'd be awake," Shaw said, leaning over the back of the couch.

"I had a nap earlier," said Root, using her forefinger to mark the place in her book and glancing up at her. "How's our friend Mr Greer?"

"Walks with a limp now," Shaw said smugly. "Where's Gen?" Shaw added, realising how quiet the apartment was for once; usually Gen was hogging the TV, watching some ridiculous realty TV show or blaring crap music out of her laptop.

"At the party,” said Root. “She'll be back by eleven."

"Isn't that a little late?" Shaw asked, frowning slightly.

"She wanted midnight. We compromised," Root said with a shrug. "But it does mean we have the place to ourselves for another hour," Root added, trailing her finger lazily along the inside of Shaw's wrist, making Shaw shiver.

But Shaw didn't give in to her suggestion, no matter how tempting the offer was, and she continued to frown until Root's finger stilled and she sighed in exasperation.

"Don't worry, the Machine's keeping an eye on her," said Root reassuringly.

"Whatever," said Shaw, with the air of a person who wasn't worried at all. "I'm going for a shower."

"Good," said Root smirking, "I'll join you."

Shaw paused and the smile slowly faded from Root’s face. "You want to tell me what's going on with you and the Machine first?" she asked, her voice low.

Root looked away, pretending to be mesmerised by her book again. "I don't know what you mean."

Shaw snatched the book out of Root's hand, snapping in closed and waited until she had the hacker's full attention. Root glanced at her wearily, but she said nothing and Shaw could tell she was about to spin all her regular avoidance tactics.

"Greer gets released from prison and we don't get a heads up?" said Shaw, letting the annoyance creep into her voice. It was a thought that had been bugging her all day as she watched Greer, how he was out of prison and back in the city before any of them had known about it. Before _Root_ had known about it.

Root sighed and avoided Shaw's eyes. "She's been... quiet lately."

"What the hell does that mean?" Shaw asked. But Root didn't say anything more and Shaw dropped the book into the other woman's lap with a scowl. "Fine, don't tell me," she said.

"Shaw-"

But whatever Root had been about to say was cut off by the front door banging open, Gen charging through it. She didn't pay either one of them any attention as she rushed into her room, slamming the door shut behind her.

"What the hell was that about?" Shaw muttered, glancing back at Root to find the other woman with her head tilted slightly as she listened to the Machine.

"She caught that Evan boy kissing another girl," Root said.

Oh sure, _that_ the Machine told her about, Shaw thought in annoyance.

"Well, I'm going for a shower," said Shaw, not in the mood to deal with Gen's teenage angst at any time of day, let alone after a long day of sitting on her ass bored out of her mind. But Root grabbed her wrist before she could move.

"You should talk to her," said Root, giving her a pointed look.

Shaw twisted her lips and then sighed. "Fine," she muttered. But instead of heading for Gen's room, Shaw moved around to the other side of the couch and grabbed a startled Root by the forearm, pulling her up. "Don't think you're getting out of this."

Root rolled her eyes but followed Shaw to Gen's room without complaint and knocked softly on the door.

"Go away," Gen cried.

"Well, we tried," said Shaw, trying to move away. Root grabbed her arm, yanking her backwards and gave her an exasperated look until she was sure Shaw wasn't about to move again.

"Gen, come on," said Root, "let us in."

Eventually, the door clicked open slightly. Shaw pushed it the rest of the way with her foot, revealing Gen sitting on the bed, arms wrapped around her knees as she cried quietly. Shaw pushed Root forward into the room slightly. Crying girls were so not her area of expertise. She doubted it was Root's either, and she received a withering look as Root stumbled into the room. Shaw just shrugged at the other woman and leaned against the door frame with her arms folded.

Root ventured slowly into the room and sat on the bed beside Gen. "Wanna tell us what happened?" she asked softly.

Gen shrugged, sniffing a bit as the tears continued to stream down her cheeks. "Boys are so stupid," she said.

"Yes," Root agreed, "yes they are." She bumped shoulders with Gen when the girl continued to cry quietly.

"Want me to kick his ass?" Shaw asked, half-serious, but it earned her a small smile from the kid.

Root looked up and pressed her lips together. "There are subtler ways to get revenge, Sameen."

"Like what?" Gen asked curiously.

Shaw was thinking the same question and she stared at Root apprehensively as the hacker leaned over and took Gen’s laptop off her desk.

"Wanna hack his Facebook?" Root asked. She opened the laptop and began typing away.

"You can do that?" Gen said, sitting up slightly, her eyes on what Root's fast fingers were doing.

"Piece of cake," Root replied.

Shaw snorted. "Facebook?” she said disdainfully. “That's kinda lame."

"Well it's better than stooping to beating up a thirteen year old," Root remarked scornfully as she handed Gen the laptop.

"Whatever," Shaw muttered and watched as Gen stared hesitantly at the computer screen.

"What do I do?" she asked Root.

Root shrugged. "Anything you want."

Gen's hands rested against the keyboard for a moment before she began to type and click away, a slight smirk on her face now that she had decided what to do. Root peered over her shoulder, her features crinkling into a disgusted expression.

"I think we need to rethink the parental controls on the Wi-Fi," she said absently to Shaw.

Shaw frowned and decided she didn't want to know the details of what Gen was doing. Eventually, Gen finished and closed the laptop, resting it against her knees.

"Feel better?" Root asked.

"Not really," said Gen. She had stopped crying though, at least. Shaw thought that was an improvement, but the kid still looked miserable, sitting hunched over with her hair falling into her eyes as she bit her lip.

"Want to go get some ice cream?" Shaw asked.

Root shot her an exasperated look.

"What?" said Shaw. "When I want to feel better I eat ice cream."

"Can I have the three scoop special?" Gen asked excitedly, her entire face brightening up.

Shaw rolled her eyes. "Yes, you can have the three scoop special."

Gen smiled warmly and hopped off the bed, dashing to the bathroom to wash the dried tears from her face.

"Can I have the three scoop special?" Root asked playfully, her voice dripping with innuendo as she came up to Shaw and proceeded to feel her up.

"Get off," Shaw grumbled, but she let Root press her up against the wall and kiss her lightly.

Gen reappeared, shooting them both disgusted looks. "Are you guys coming or what?" she asked haughtily.

Shaw cleared her throat and pushed a smirking Root away from her before following Gen out of the apartment.

*

The ice cream parlour was only a couple of blocks away from their apartment building so they decided to walk. It was a nice night, Gen rushing ahead as Root and Shaw walked side by side, and Root felt herself smiling at how normal it felt compared to everything else going on in her life.

"So is this what you guys do when I'm not here?" Root asked quietly.

Shaw glanced at her and shrugged. "Not like it's a thing or anything." But Root didn't fall for her forced casualness and she felt a little warmer on the inside now that she had been invited along.

"Only you would be able to find a twenty-four hour ice cream joint," Root commented.

"What can I say," said Shaw lightly, "it's a gift."

The ice cream parlour was like something straight out of the fifties: black and white checked tiled floor and the upholstery a bright, eye burning cherry red. Booths lined the walls and there was a jukebox in the corner playing cheesy fifties pop music. Root assumed the ice cream must be pretty good for Shaw to put up with a place like this and she slid into a free booth, Shaw getting in beside her as Gen took a seat opposite them.

A waitress came over and took their order; both Shaw and Gen ordering their usual, but Root just asked for some coffee. Despite her nap earlier, she still felt exhausted and she sat with her chin resting in her hand, listening half-heartedly as Gen prattled on about the good bits of the party before the incident with Evan. Root hadn't even realised her eyes had slid closed until she felt something smack her square in the centre of her forehead.

Root snapped her eyes open, finding a balled up piece of paper napkin on the table in front of her. "Funny," she said, glaring at both of them and flicking the offending projectile away from her.

Gen stared at her innocently around the spoon in her mouth as Shaw smirked beside her, clearly enjoying this way too much.

"Oh, you find that funny?" said Root, reaching over for Shaw's half eaten bowl of ice cream.

"Don't you dare," Shaw ordered, but Root was too fast for her and the bowl was already half way to Shaw's face before she had even finished the sentence.

Root dropped the bowl back to the table in triumph as Shaw seethed at the ice cream now dripping from her chin and nose.

"You are so going to pay for that later," Shaw threatened.

Root leaned closer. "Looking forward to it," she mumbled and licked the ice cream off the tip of Shaw's nose. Shaw shoved her away in annoyance, wiping the rest of the ice cream off of her face with a napkin as Gen laughed from across the table.

"Laugh it up, kid," said Shaw, flicking whipped cream with her spoon in Gen's direction. It landed in her hair with a splatter, wiping the smile off the kid's face.

"Urgh," said Gen, moving to retaliate. But Shaw saw it coming this time and ducked out of the way. The ice cream went flying by Shaw's face and hit a guy in the booth behind them on the back of the head.

"Oops," said Gen, her eyes widening. "Sorry," she added apologetically as the guy turned around to glare at them.

Root laughed into Shaw's shoulder as the waitress reappeared, staring down at them all sternly.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave,” the waitress insisted, sneering at them.

Gen whined a bit about not getting to finish her ice cream, but Shaw shimmied her out before the waitress could ban them all for life. Root paid, making sure to leave a generous tip, but she still felt a glare on her back as she exited the place.

"Never been kicked out of an ice cream parlour before," Shaw complained when they were out on the street, zipping up her jacket.

"Well, there's always a first time for everything," Root said cheerily as she watched Gen walk up ahead of them again.

"Hmm," Shaw said non-committedly.

Root watched her closely with a smirk on her face.

"What?" Shaw asked.

"You've still got a little bit of ice cream on your face," Root lied and used it as an excuse to lean in and kiss the other woman. She half expected Shaw to push her away again in annoyance, but she didn't, instead tugging Root closer so she could deepen the kiss.

"Ugh, would you guys _hurry up_ ," Gen called to them.

Root pulled away, a wolfish grin on her face as Shaw glanced at Gen sheepishly.

"Now about that punishment..." Root said suggestively and Shaw rolled her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

_Despite the sun beating down over head, Root still feels cold, the coldest she has ever been or ever will be._

_Sand surrounds her. It is everywhere she looks, never ending no matter which direction she walks in. Even when she thinks she sees something, a shimmer that looks like water, looks like civilisation, it turns to nothing by the time she reaches it, her eyes playing tricks on her once again._

_This is not her first time in the desert. She has been here before and it has always been cold, this desert. So cold and unrelenting in the way it surrounds her, suffocates her until she thinks,_ this is where I'll die.

_On most of her visits here, Root is alone. But sometimes, sometimes she isn't. And it is those times that she fears the most, feels the dread sinking in her stomach like a stone in water and knows she can’t run from it. Can’t hide from it._

_That is when she sees them, the figures up ahead. They are too far away for her to make out their features, but she knows who they are, just like she always does and even though Root turns and walks in the other direction, feet sinking into the sand, they end up in front of her again. Just like always, she cannot run from them._

_There are seven of them. There used to be only six, and the seventh stands small and alone compared to the rest of them, a life so innocent and helpless as she stands apart from the others._

_Root runs from them, sand kicking up behind her as tries to get as far away as possible, but each step she takes seems to bring them closer rather than further away. Eventually, her lungs burning, her knees aching, and her throat as dry as the desert around her, she stops, drops to her knees with a cry because the seven figures are on top of her now. They fight her; beat her until she is broken and bloody. Until she feels nothing but the fists and the feet connecting with her flesh, making her wish that she were dead, that she had never been born._

_And when they stop, after a lifetime she thinks, she staggers to her feet. She is covered in blood, surrounded by it, the desert now a red sea and everything she has ever known and loved lies to waste rotting and burning._

_It is the smell that gets to her the most. The sight she can handle, the images she can close her eyes to and pretend do not exist. But the smell never leaves. The smell engulfs her just as the ocean of blood swallows her whole..._

_She is no longer in the desert, but underground, so far underneath it that the smell of rotting flesh cannot reach her here._

_She knows this place too, knows its wires and circuits, motherboards and servers. Knows what it houses here like an animal trapped in a cage._

_God is here._

_Except God has stopped listening, killed by her hand, never to be woken again, never to see or speak or rise again._

_There is another here too. One of the seven from the desert. Root knows her before she sees her. She always knows her, every line and every scar, every harsh look and every rare, gentle caress. But the look she sends Root's way is not harsh or gentle. It is the look of someone who has been betrayed, someone who has lain out all their trust only for it to be trampled upon, like a bully stomps on the nerdy kids toys._

_Root tries to speak, tries to explain herself to this creature that is no longer the woman she used to be. But Sameen just looks at her with that betrayal in her eyes as the blood pours from her gut, pours like a gushing stream, unable to be stemmed and Root realises the gun is in her grip, fired by her hand, finger tight on the trigger as she pulls it again._

_She screams then, as the bullet drills through Sameen’s body, tearing the flesh and sending a spray of blood outwards, covering Root’s face. Some of it gets in her mouth and it tastes metallic and warm, tastes of_ her, _and Root screams all over again, sobs until she can’t breathe, until she can’t stand on her own two feet anymore. But no one hears her scream. There is no one left to hear her. Not anymore, not now that she has killed them all._

_*_

Root woke with a start, sitting up in bed suddenly as cold sweat dripped from her skin, the sounds of her screams still echoing in her ears, fading but not taking the dream (the _nightmare_ ) with it. No, that stayed with her, the images so vivid like they actually happened. _But they did_ , she thought, _they did happen. Some of them anyway…_ And she remembered. She remembered the desert and destroying the Machine and she remembered Shaw...

Root glanced next to her then, found Shaw awake and staring at her impassively. Root looked away, unable to cope with the sympathy there, hidden in the depths of Shaw's eyes, hidden so far that only someone who really knew her would be able to see it.

Root swung her legs over the edge of the bed, sat with her head in her hands and tried to get her breathing under control. She could feel her heart racing, pounding so fast as if she were running a marathon and not in bed asleep.

"What was it this time?" Shaw asked softly.

Root didn't say anything for a while. But she could picture it. Could see Shaw's cold and lifeless body, fallen by Root's hand. "You died," Root said quietly. “We all died.”

“In the desert?” Shaw asked.

Root inclined her head slightly, but didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. Root talked in her sleep, apparently, and Shaw knew fine well some of the horrors that Root’s mind conjured up for her. But that didn’t make it any easier, didn’t make the images fade, instead staying stark and vivid in her mind as if they had happened yesterday.

"I’m sorry,” Root said, changing the subject, “did I wake you?”

“It’s okay,” said Shaw, even as she yawned and rubbed at her eyes tiredly.

“No,” said Root unsteadily, looking away, “it’s not.”

“Root…”

But Root ignored her and got up carefully, trying not to make it obvious how unsettled she felt, how her heart was still pounding a crescendo as if it were trying to batter its way out of her chest. She staggered to the bathroom, could feel Shaw's eyes watching her every step and made it there without throwing up like her body wanted her to do.

Root gripped the sink with both hands and waited for the nausea to pass, resting her forehead against the cool mirror above it. It cooled her clammy skin, and after a moment, she felt like she could breathe again. Her heart was still pounding though and she could start to feel a tightness in her chest, one she knew would only get worse if she didn't get it under control soon.

With shaking hands, Root opened the medicine cabinet. It was filled with Shaw's medical supplies, more than your average first aid kit, but it was the bottle of pills with the fake name on them that Root reached for. It was an old alias, but it wasn’t like she used her real name anymore anyway. Root opened the bottle with trembling fingers, the lid uncooperative for a moment before she finally managed to pry it loose and took two pills, running the cold tap so she could swallow them down easier. Root dabbed cold water on her face and the back of her neck and waited for the drugs to still her racing heart, weakened ever since her torture session with Control. An unwanted leftover gift, and she tried not to think about all those needles in her arms, tried not to think about anything at all.

Root looked up to find Shaw's reflection in the mirror, standing in the doorway with her arms folded and watching Root as if she could see right through her.

"It's getting worse, isn't it?" Shaw asked, concern etched in her tone, but there was a hint of something else there too. Annoyance, Root thought, but didn't know who it was directed at, if it was for her or the Machine. Or maybe Shaw was just annoyed at herself for not being able to do anything about it.

Root didn't answer her because Shaw already knew the answer. They both pretended Shaw didn't catalogue every injury, every bruise and scrape, or the way Root got tired more easily these days and yet still couldn't sleep. Shaw tracked it all, the doctor in her unable to do anything else as the Machine continued to send Root out on missions more and more dangerous, each one taking its toll on her already fragile body.

"You can't keep doing this, Root," said Shaw. "You need a break."

Root squeezed her eyes shut and saw a flash of blood and pale, dead skin. Felt the nausea return with a flourish.

It was an argument they’d had before, and one they would probably have again, neither one willing to compromise.

"Don't," said Root and could hear Shaw sigh behind her.

"At least get your meds changed," Shaw said, her tone more stiff this time. "They're messing with your head."

"If it's any consolation," Root murmured as the Machine rallied off a list of alternative medications for her to try, "She agrees with you."

"It's not, actually," Shaw said sharply. " _She_ isn't the one with a medical degree."

"Shaw, leave it," Root said tightly, her voice as strained as her weakened heart. "Please."

"Fine," Shaw snapped and when Root opened her eyes again, when she was sure she wasn't going to pass out or throw up because the world was still spinning around her, Shaw was gone.

The Machine muttered in her ear again, muttered an apology and a promise to redirect the relevant numbers for the time being. Root scoffed at that, wondering where She could possibly send them. The government were no longer listening to Her, not after the disaster with Samaritan. No, they were keeping their heads down low and waiting to see how things would play out. And Shaw and Reese were busy enough with the irrelevant numbers, there was no way they could handle the relevant ones as well.

But part of her did hope that the Machine had a plan, and not because she wanted (or needed) a break, but because it would give her more time to focus on her other project, to find this ghost that was so elusively avoiding both her and the Machine, this ghost that still had her running around, chasing her tail in never ending circles.

She hadn't told Shaw yet, didn't want to see that look of disapproval on her face, didn't want to have the inevitable argument that would follow.

But there was another reason as well, one she tried not to think about, but it followed her into her dreams anyway, left her with burning images that she couldn't get out of her head. Left her with the freezing cold fear of what might happen (what _did_ happen, in her dreams, where she had no control) and so she kept her silence, kept it close, wrapped it tightly around herself like a shield, used it to protect them all, and pretended everything was going to be okay.

When Root eventually left the bathroom, her feet feeling steadier and her heart more calm, she found the bedroom empty. There was a flash of fear again before she remembered, before she realised that this was real life and not a walking nightmare and that everything was fine. _Shaw_ was fine. Her feet carried her out of the bedroom automatically and she let out a silent sigh of relief when she saw Shaw in the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Root asked quietly, watching as Shaw stood over the stove heating something in a pan.

Shaw glanced at her over her shoulder. "Making you something to help you sleep."

Root smiled slightly and sat on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. "Is this a scientifically approved medical concoction?" Root asked, trying to add some lightness to her tone, but suspecting that she had failed quite a bit when Shaw stared at her blankly for a moment.

"No," said Shaw flatly, turning off the stove and pouring the amber drink into a mug. "My mom used to make it for me when I was a kid," she explained.

"Oh," said Root, not entirely sure how to respond to that. Shaw placed the mug in front of her and Root blew on it slightly before taking a small sip, almost choking when she did so. "Your mom made you _this_?" she asked incredulously as the hot fiery alcohol burned, quite literally, down her throat.

Shaw shrugged. "I was an angry kid. Didn't sleep much," she explained, staring at the mug in Root's hands. "What?" she added when she glanced up and found Root staring at her strangely.

"You never talk about your family," said Root quietly, "what it was like when you were kid." And she tried not to think about her own childhood, tried not think about the library and the last time that she saw...

"Not much to tell," Shaw said with a shrug, cutting into Root’s thoughts.

"I don't think that's true," said Root, remembering what the Machine had told her about Shaw and her father, how he had died in that car crash and Sameen had survived with barely a scratch.

"You don't talk about yours," Shaw countered.

"You've never asked," said Root and was relieved when Shaw looked away and didn't ask her anything at all. And she wondered briefly how much she already knew, how much she had gleaned from Harold and Reese and decided she didn't want to know. There were some things that just shouldn't be shared. And she hoped, that whatever Shaw did know, that the other woman didn't hold it against her.

"Hasn't the Machine told you everything anyway?" Shaw said after a while, a tinge of bitterness in her voice.

"No," said Root.

Shaw looked at her sharply like she didn’t believe her. "Whatever," she said casually, "I'm going back to bed. Drink that," she added, pointing at the still full mug in Root's hand. "All of it."

"Doctor's orders?" Root asked with a smirk.

"Not really," Shaw said flatly, a tightness to her lips and Root wondered what she meant, wondered what she was thinking. "Just finish it," Shaw said quietly and left.

Root watched her slip back into the bedroom and sat still for a moment before downing the rest of Shaw's concoction. It was kind of disgusting and Root worried she wasn't going to be able to keep it down. But her stomach settled and her eyes started to droop and she shuffled back to bed with heavy limbs, her entire body exhausted, but her mind still reeling from the horrors of her nightmare.

Shaw was still awake, Root could tell by the lightness of her breathing, and she slipped in beside the other woman. The bed had gone cold since she had left it and it felt nice and cool against her skin. Root turned on her side, facing away from the other woman, but didn't close her eyes, couldn't bring herself to attempt to sleep again, knowing exactly what would find her there if she did. It was an irrational fear, she knew, and yet she still couldn't help it. She still couldn't face the thought of going back there alone.

"Hey, Shaw," she said quietly, just loud enough for the other woman to hear.

"Hmm?" Shaw mumbled incoherently.

"Will you..." Root bit her lip and couldn't bring herself to say it. She felt the bed shift slightly and knew that Shaw had turned to face her.

"What?" asked Shaw, sounding more alert now.

"Will you... hold me... until I fall asleep?" Root stuttered and could practically feel the eye roll coming from the other woman. It was a lot to ask, she knew it was. Shaw didn't do cuddling or hand holding or any unnecessary touching if she could help it. The silence that followed was almost deafening and Root wondered if Shaw had fallen back asleep, but she knew she hadn't, knew that Shaw was probably staring at her with a blank look on her face.

"Please," said Root, "I-" _I need to know you are still here._

Shaw sighed heavily. "Fine," she said eventually. "But you owe me."

Root smiled. "I'll buy you a steak dinner."

"You're buying me two steak dinners," Shaw grumbled and snaked an arm around Root's waist.

"Deal," said Root, finally allowing herself to close her eyes. But she still saw it, couldn't shake the image of Shaw's lifeless body from her mind. Shaw must have sensed the change in her, because she tugged Root closer until their bodies were tight against each other.

"It was just a dream, Root," Shaw said quietly against her shoulder, then brushed her lips softly against the side of Root's neck.

"I know," Root whispered and fell asleep.

*

The sun was streaming through the curtains when Root woke up. Her eyelids felt heavy and her head was sore but she had slept better than she thought she would have; dreamless this time, Root thought thankfully. She smiled when she realised Shaw's arm was still tight around her waist and it only widened when she realised that Shaw was awake.

"Careful, Shaw," said Root brightly, "anyone would think you were enjoying yourself."

Shaw groaned. "Had to go and ruin it, didn't you?"

She tried to pull away, but Root held onto her wrist, entwining their fingers together so that Shaw couldn't move.

"Stay," Root muttered and was surprised when Shaw did, when she didn't pull away and grumble some excuse about only having _just_ woken up or something. Root squeezed her hand and decided to relish the moment because she doubted she would get a similar one again. They lay like that for a while, neither of them in any particular rush to get up. Root wonder absently what time it was, figured it must still be early if Gen wasn't up yet (and the apartment was way too quiet for that - the kid made _a lot_ of noise), but decided she didn't care all that much. She would stay in bed all day with Shaw if she could get away with it, if neither one of them had more pressing concerns. But they did and Root knew with a depressing certainty that the moment couldn't last.

"I think that drink you made me gave me a hangover," Root said absently as her head continued to throb.

"Lightweight," Shaw muttered tiredly. Root elbowed her in the ribs and received a small grunt of annoyance in return, Shaw tightening her grip on Root's arm to stop her from doing it again. When Root stilled, Shaw let go, and her hand trailed upwards to cover Root's heart, fingers brushing against her breast through the fabric of her shirt.

"Your heart's still racing," Shaw said with mild concern.

"Not surprising," said Root with a smile, "considering the compromising position your hand is in."

Shaw let go then, her body stiffening in annoyance over Root's flippancy. Root rolled her eyes and turned around onto her other side to face the other woman. Shaw's arm slipped from her waist, but she kept her hand resting lightly on Root's hip. Root stared at her for a moment, taking in the worried frown on Shaw's face, before leaning forward to kiss Shaw briefly on the lips.

"What was that for?" Shaw asked.

"You really need to ask?" Root said, smiling sadly when Shaw continued to frown at her. Root kissed her until it went away and moved to straddle the other woman's waist, her hands going up underneath Shaw's shirt. Shaw let out a small hiss when Root's fingernails scraped across her skin. Root smirked into her mouth and moved to trail kisses along Shaw's jaw, nibbling softly on smooth flesh.

"I need to go watch Greer," Shaw mumbled, trying to still Root's wandering hands.

Root snorted. As far as Shaw's bedroom talk went, that was probably the worst. "Are you trying to make me jealous?" Root muttered lightly in her ear before ducking her head lower to suck on Shaw's neck.

"Shut up, I'm serious," said Shaw, but Root could detect the hitch of her breath even as she said it. "Reese will whine if I'm late."

"I don't care," said Root, bringing their lips together again.

"I'll tell him it's your fault," Shaw threatened against her mouth. But Root thought it was a little weak considering Shaw's hands had just moved to grip her hips tighter and deepened the kiss.

"Go ahead," said Root, figuring it would be more of a punishment for Reese than for her, especially if Shaw divulged the details of _why_ exactly she was late. "You can go once you've come for me," Root said teasingly, slipping her hand beneath Shaw's waistband. Shaw groaned, digging her fingers a little deeper in Root's hips and biting down hard on Root's bottom lip when she kissed her again.

Root curled a finger inside of her and Shaw made no further protests after that.


	4. Chapter 4

Shaw had three missed calls from Reese when she checked her phone on the way out of the apartment. She didn't call him back, knowing that if he had something on Greer or there was an emergency, Finch would have called her too.

Shaw slipped the phone back into her pocket as she exited the building and almost got knocked into by a kid on a bike, only managing to jump out of the way in time when he frantically rang on his bell. Shaw cursed under her breath as the kid called out a breathless apology and darted into the building with his bike. It took Shaw a moment to realise who he was, and it was the bicycle she recognised more than anything, having been almost crashed into by this kid before a few weeks ago. She couldn't remember his name off the top of her head, and had no interest in learning it anyway, but she knew that he was that boy Gen had been so obsessed with since the first day she had come to stay.

Shaw waited a beat before stepping back into the apartment building. The kid had chained his bike up under the stairs, but he himself was nowhere in sight. Shaw stepped casually over to the bike, took out her knife and slashed both tires. There was a hissing sound as all the air was let out, leaving the tires shrivelled and flat. Shaw slipped the knife back into her pocket and disappeared out of the building without anyone noticing her.

"And Root says I can't do subtle," she muttered to herself with a smirk.

By the time Shaw reached Greer's condo she was running forty minutes late and Reese glanced at her with a tired frown when she got into the car beside him.

"Sorry I'm late," said Shaw, "had to run an errand."

"Uh-huh," said Reese sceptically, looking through the camera in his hands and taking a snapshot of the front of Greer's building. "And how is Root this morning?"

Shaw cleared her throat awkwardly and tried to keep her expression neutral.

"Actually," said Reese hurriedly, looking at her with a mixture of mild disgust and horror, "don't answer that. I don't want to know."

"Like I'd tell you anyway," Shaw muttered. "Anything?" she asked, changing the subject and gesturing in the general direction of Greer's building.

"Nope, nothing," said Reese, handing her the camera. Shaw skimmed through a few of the pictures he had taken during the night but spotted nothing of interest. "Starting to get a little bored," Reese added.

Shaw grunted in agreement but wasn't inclined to stop watching Greer, her instincts telling her that he wasn't the innocent old man with the walking stick that he appeared to be. And Shaw knew from experience that her instincts were rarely wrong, so she listened to them now, despite the boredom.

"If only we had an all-seeing supercomputer to do the watching for us," Reese said absently through a yawn.

"Yeah, well," said Shaw, her eyes still on the building entrance, "I'm not really inclined to trust the Machine right now."

Reese frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

Shaw shrugged. "Nothing," she said and thought about what Root had said about the Machine being quiet lately and wondered what it meant. But it wasn't the only reason she was starting to lose trust in the Machine, and she tried not think about how many times she had been woken up by Root having a nightmare, how many times she had watched Root swallow a handful of pills because her heart couldn't cope anymore.

Reese glanced at her again, looked like he wanted to say something. He didn't though and Shaw was more than a little relieved when he got out of the car without another word.

The problem with being bored Shaw quickly realised, as she sat for another few hours watching people come and go but had yet to spot Greer anywhere, was that it was very easy for the mind to wander and she found herself thinking more and more of the night before. Something was up with Root, something else her instincts were telling her, and it was more than just the usual stress of chasing down relevant numbers. But Shaw couldn't put her finger on it. She felt like she was missing something, something important, and she had to keep questioning herself on whether or not she was just being paranoid now that Greer was back in the picture.

But then there was the Machine not telling them stuff, not telling _Root_ stuff, and it made her think that, perhaps, she wasn't being paranoid after all.

Her phone rang then, somewhere near lunchtime, and Shaw was glad for something to do, even if she did scowl in annoyance when she read the caller ID.

"What?" Shaw barked into the phone. "This had better be an emergency."

"Shaw, you have to help," Gen said quietly over the phone.

Shaw rolled her eyes and knew fine well that the kid wasn't in any trouble, not whilst she was in the library. Shaw had a harsh response on the tip of her tongue, because how many times had she had the discussion with Gen about _not_ calling her when she was working unless the house was burning down or she had lost Bear or something else remotely emergency-like?

"Please, you have no idea what it is like here," Gen said dramatically.

"Why are you whispering?" Shaw asked.

"Because I don't want _him_ to find me," said Gen.

Shaw only needed one guess to know that "him" was Finch and she wondered what new chores he had added to Gen's list.

"Suck it up, kid," said Shaw unhelpfully.

"Ugh," Gen grumbled, "you're rubbish. I'm calling Root." And with that she hung up.

Shaw stared at the phone for a moment, shaking her head in amusement before tossing the phone into the passenger seat beside her. When she looked up again she spotted a flash of grey hair get into a car outside the front of the building she was supposed to be watching. It took her a moment to realise that the black SUV was the same one Greer had got into yesterday. Except yesterday he'd had a bodyguard helping him out to it and driving him about. Today he didn't and Shaw knew instinctively that he was up to something.

Shaw followed Greer's car, again making sure to maintain a safe distance. But she had a sneaking suspicion that Greer knew he was being followed, that he was toying with her as he drove around in seemingly random directions. Maybe he was just being paranoid or maybe he was trying to shake her off, but she managed to stay on his tail until he eventually stopped the car and got out.

Shaw parked her car and watched as Greer limped to a subway station entrance. She didn't think the limp was an act, but she did wonder why he had insisted on the bodyguard's help the other day. The appearance of being helpless? If so, for who's benefit was it? Hers or someone else's? She didn't know, but it did make her wonder who else might be interested in watching Greer and she had the sudden image of Control sitting in a similar vehicle, eyes trained on Greer as she waited for him to do something suspicious.

Shaw got out of the car when she was sure Greer had a decent head start, mentally calculating how long it would take him to limp down the stairs, then walked quickly to the subway entrance. When she reached the bottom there was no sign of Greer amongst the crowd of New Yorkers. There was, however, a familiar looking walking stick resting against the wall at the bottom of the stairs. Shaw looked at it, seething, as it rested there, as if it were silently mocking her. Okay, so clearly she was wrong about the limp being real and she wondered bitterly how long Greer had been playing her. He was definitely playing _with_ her at least, and she knew intuitively that he’d left the cane here as a message. She just didn’t know if it was a challenge or a warning.

"Fuck," she said loudly and picked up the wooden cane. A woman glared at her as she walked past hurriedly with her son, but Shaw ignored her, ignored everyone and headed further into the subway station, the cane held tightly in her hand.

She had to push her way through a crowd, and she realised belatedly that this was one of the busiest subway stops in the city, that Greer must have chosen it for that very reason. Shaw scanned the crowd for familiar grey hair, but knew with a cold, hard certainty that Greer was long gone and she tightened her grip on the cane in her hand, struggling with the urge to use it on someone and let out all her frustrations.

Her phone rang then and Shaw activated the earpiece in her left ear to answer it.

"Don't feel too bad, Shaw," said Root, "he managed to give me and the Machine the slip once too."

Shaw glanced upwards and spotted a camera blinking down at her, knew that the Machine was watching her and felt her anger increase.

"Where is he?" Shaw asked tightly.

Root paused for a moment, long enough for Shaw to think she wasn't going to get an answer.

"She can't see him," Root said eventually.

Shaw gritted her teeth, not at all surprised by that answer and wondered what the hell the Machine was playing at.

"And you don't think that's weird?" Shaw asked. But this time she didn't get an answer. Root's silence on the other end was telling though, and Shaw wondered how long she was going to keep this up, pretend that whatever was going on with the Machine wasn't a thing.

"He's up to something," Shaw added, changing the subject as she headed back the way she had come out of the subway station.

"You don't know that for sure," said Root.

"You don't go sneaking around the city, faking a limp for nothing, Root," Shaw said. She was at the top of the stairs and she could see Greer's car from here. Shaw moved towards it and glanced through the driver's window. She spotted nothing of interest and doubted Greer would have left anything of importance in there anyway. Shaw decided it wasn't worth the risk of getting caught carjacking on a busy street and headed back to her own car.

"Be careful, Shaw," said Root. "Greer still has all the power if Decima Technologies behind him." Shaw could detect a hint of concern in the other woman's tone and wondered just what the hell she had seen in that nightmare of hers last night that had gotten her so shaken up. There was a time when Root believed Shaw could handle herself over anything, but now all Root seemed to do was caution her to be careful every time she went out on a mission. She wondered how much of that was the Machine's influence, now that it was apparently no longer nattering in Root's ear every second of the day.

"I'll be fine," Shaw said dismissively, there was a hard edge to her voice too but she hung up before Root could respond and got into the car.

The library was only about a ten minute drive away so Shaw decided to head there until she figured out what to do about Greer.

Gen practically bounced over to her as soon as Shaw walked in and she had to take a step backwards before the kid bumped into her in her enthusiasm.

"Shaw! Are you here to rescue me?" Gen asked excitedly.

Shaw frowned down at her but Finch appeared behind Gen before she could reply.

"You aren't going anywhere until you've finished the history section, young lady," said Finch, looking down at Gen sternly.

Gen jumped slightly when Finch started speaking, clearly thinking he had been out of earshot, and she stared up at Shaw with a pleading look on her face, as if to say 'please get me out of here now.'

Shaw just shrugged and Gen eventually disappeared back to work with a huff when Finch cleared his throat at her pointedly.

"Wow, Finch," said Shaw, "you certainly run a tight ship around here." Finch glanced at her, looking a little bashful. "'Young lady?'" she added mockingly with a smirk.

Finch cleared his throat, his cheeks tinging pink as he shuffled back to his computers. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be watching Greer?"

"He gave me the slip," Shaw told him reluctantly.

Finch looked up at her sharply, his eyebrow rising in surprise.

Shaw shrugged, trying to come across as if she wasn't bothered by this latest development. But Finch stared at her knowingly and asked, "What can I do for you?"

"Give me everything we've got on Greer," said Shaw and watched as Harold sat down at his desk. He gestured to the board where they usually pinned up the life story of whatever number they were chasing after. "Already a step ahead of you, Miss Shaw," said Finch.

Shaw glanced at the board where Finch had displayed everything they knew about Greer. It wasn't a lot, there were large gaps in his history that they had never been able to account for. But then again, MI6 had probably erased a lot of it. Shaw studied the board carefully, determined to find something that they could use to figure out what Greer was up too.

*

After her conversation with Shaw about Greer, Root headed to the safe house. She had been out all morning running a few "errands" for her own side project. She just hoped she had more luck finding this ghost than Shaw seemed to be having with Greer. Not that she expected Shaw to give up anytime soon. And that's what worried her.

Because Shaw was right, Greer probably _was_ up to something, managing to give Shaw the slip and even avoiding the Machine's all seeing eyes. But Greer had learned how to avoid the city’s cameras when he had his own version of God watching everything, and the old man still had a few tricks up his sleeve it would seem.

That worried her more than anything, more than she'd care to admit, and she was once again reminded of how quiet the Machine was lately. Ever since... Well, ever since She had come back online six months ago. Root had wondered if it was just the Machine finding Her feet again, so to speak, or something else. She had wondered, ever so briefly, if the Machine was trying to wean Root off Her, now that the threat of Samaritan was over, now that she was no longer needed. It wasn't something Root liked to think about and she remembered how she had reacted when she had thought she had lost the Machine for good, when Harold had been so terrified she was going to run off and hurt someone that he had handcuffed her to a dingy bed in a motel room. She remembered how she had almost killed Greer out of blind rage and revenge.

But something had stopped her. She hadn't killed Greer. She had wanted to, more than anything, knew she would have probably taken some brief form of pleasure from it. But she hadn't.

She had imagined then, in that moment, that the Machine would have been proud of her humanity.

And she had hoped for death then, as she had stared down the barrel of Greer's gun, hoped that Greer would end her life because how else was she supposed to go on without the Machine?

But she hadn't died. Shaw had saved her, in more ways than one, Root was starting to realise, even if Shaw herself never would.

But maybe the Machine had, and maybe that was why She had been so quiet lately because Root had finally found herself some semblance of a normal life. Well, as normal as you could get with chasing down numbers and getting shot at on a weekly basis. And neither her nor Shaw could ever be described as normal.

Root knew it couldn't last though, knew it with a certainty that felt like ice in her heart. People like her didn't get to do normal. She didn't deserve it.

She remembered her dream then. A flash of Shaw's lifeless body, covered in blood, dead by Root's hand. Always, every night, dead by Root's hand. She tried to shut the images out, tried to will them away, but they stayed with her the rest of the day and she tried not to think about how Greer wouldn't hesitate to kill Shaw when she eventually caught up with him.

Root's cell phone rang then, cutting into her morbid thoughts and she was glad to have something else to think about for a few moments. She smiled slightly when she read the caller ID, felt her heart warm a little and tried not to think about how this couldn't last either.

"What is it this time?" Root asked, not unkindly. Although it was the third time Gen had called her in the space of an hour, Root found she didn't mind all that much.

"Shaw's being mean and won't get me out of here," Gen replied, her voice low like she was hiding from something and Root had visions of her crouching behind a bookshelf, trying to remain out of Finch's line of sight.

"You're supposed to be doing chores," said Root, letting herself into the safe house with the key she had stolen from Harold a few weeks ago. Not that the boys wouldn't have let her in, but they were currently nowhere in sight, despite her having told them specifically to be here by now.

"But they're boring!" Gen complained.

"Yes," Root agreed, "that's why they're called chores."

"This isn't fair," Gen said haughtily. "I'm a spy. I shouldn't have to put up with this."

Root bit her lip to stop from laughing. "Every spy has a day job," she said reasonably.

"I'm pretty sure they don't," Gen grumbled.

"Well, they do if they're undercover," Root said, turning the boys' computers on and waiting for them to boot up.

"Hmm," said Gen. "Does this mean _I'm_ undercover?"

"Gen," said Root warningly. "Harold said no spying, remember?" But she had the distinct feeling Gen was no longer listening to her.

"Why does Harold get to decide everything?"

"Because he's kind of the boss, hon," said Root.

"But he's not _your_ boss," Gen said wisely and Root was reminded not for the first time just how perceptive the kid could be.

"I’m bored," Gen complained again. "Can’t I come hang out with you?"

"How do you know what I'm doing isn't boring?" said Root, who had no intention of letting Gen anywhere near her project.

"Because you wouldn't be doing it if it was," said Gen and Root smiled.

Daniel and Daizo appeared then, both of them each carrying two brown paper bags loaded with what Root presumed was probably Redbull. Daizo had gotten kind of addicted to the stuff recently and she nodded to them both as they came in.

"Gen, I've got to go," Root said absently into the phone.

"But-" Gen started to protest.

"I'm sure you'll find _something_ to amuse yourself with," Root said and hung up. "Where's Jason?"

Daniel placed his two bags of groceries on the dining table before turning to face her. "He was out apartment hunting."

"I'll call him," Daizo added hurriedly in his stilted English and she wondered if her bad mood was that obvious.

"We'll just need to get started without him," Root said as Daizo pulled out his phone and headed into the other room.

“Started on what?” Daniel asked.

But Root didn’t answer him. She had been debating with herself all morning about how much to tell them. She knew she needed their help, but she wanted to keep all three of them out of this ghost’s line of sight as much as possible. _Better to keep them in the dark_ , she thought. _Better to keep them all in the dark._

Daniel looked at her curiously but didn’t question her, blindly following her lead as usual. She wondered if this was how the Machine felt every time She gave Root a new order without revealing the full picture, this sense of dread that sat heavy in the pit of her stomach. It took her a moment to remember that She couldn’t, that the Machine was just that… a machine.

Daizo reappeared and helped himself to an energy drink from one of the bags of groceries. Almost as an afterthought, he offered Root one, but she shook her head at him slightly and sat down to get to work. Caffeine was not part of her diet at the moment. It messed with her meds too much and she was under strict orders from Shaw not to touch the stuff.

“So what are we doing?” Daizo asked, this time in Japanese. The Machine translated for her, but Root’s Japanese was getting almost as good as Daizo’s English and she had managed to work it out on our own before the Machine had finished.

“English,” Daniel scolded. He, unfortunately, had no supercomputer translating in his ear and had made it his mission to teach Daizo as much English as possible.

“What are we doing?” Daizo repeated in English, taking a sip of his Redbull before logging onto his computer.

Root smiled, but there was no warmth or humour to it. “We’re going to hire ourselves a kidnapper.”

Daniel and Daizo exchanged puzzled looks over the top of their computers.

“Is this for a number?” Daniel asked.

“Not exactly,” said Root, but didn’t elaborate and once again the boys accepted it without question. She felt a spark of something akin to guilt then and reminded herself it was for their own good.

Root took a thin manila file out of her bag, her “errands” from earlier. Everything she could find one Austin Devine, a drug dealer of the lowest order. Root had spent the morning doing a little research; about a year and a half ago Austin had just been a regular dealer on a shady New York street corner, but ever since the Russian's had been taken out, along with HR, Austin Devine had found himself moving up to the top of the food chain. He also led a little side business in human trafficking and Root had no qualms about using Devine for her purposes.

"Meet Austin Devine," said Root, handing each of the boys a copy of the file.

"Is he our kidnapper?" Daniel asked.

"Nope," said Root. "He's the one getting kidnapped." _Well, if this all goes according to plan anyway_. Devine was her bait, her way to draw this ghost out into the open. A seemingly simple job that was too good to resist. Root intended on putting some feelers out on the darknet, pose as a rival dealer looking to take out Devine in order to claim his turf. It was a job the ghost could get invested in, could get creative with and still work from a distance. She just had to make the job sound appealing enough for him to bite. And she had to make sure it looked legit.

Daniel’s phone beeped then and he pulled it out of his pocket, staring down at the screen with a frown on his face.

“What?” asked Root.

“Uh,” said Daniel, showing her the text message he just received.

It was from Shaw, which was strange in itself because Root hadn’t even known Shaw had Daniel’s number. Shaw wasn’t exactly known for her fondness of any of Root’s team of nerds either. The message was short and to the point, an address for Daniel to meet her at, but Root recognised the address almost instantly and felt a flash of apprehension.

Root handed Daniel his phone back wordlessly when her own started ringing and she answered it without checking the caller ID, knowing instinctively who it was.

“I’m borrowing your boy,” said Shaw curtly.

“I noticed,” said Root, a little irately.

“Need to learn to share, Root,” said Shaw and Root could tell she was smirking.

Root rolled her eyes and mouthed for Daniel to go. He looked at her, a little startled for a moment, before pulling his jacket back on and heading out the door. Root had the sudden urge to call him back and assure him that Shaw didn’t bite, but decided he was a big boy who could take care of himself.

“What are you doing, Shaw?” asked Root, trying to keep the concern out of her voice and thinking it just came across as disapproval instead.

“Trying to find out what Greer is up to,” said Shaw, either not picking up on Root’s tone or choosing to ignore it. Root thought it was probably the latter. “Why, what are you doing?”

“Dealing with a relevant number,” Root replied, the lie out of her mouth before she could think about it. Daizo looked up at her curiously, but she ignored him and turned her back to him, moving a little into the other room to gain some semblance of privacy.

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” Shaw asked softly, her concern clear and Root tried not to think about last night, tried not to think about her recurring nightmares or her weak heart or how many times Shaw had watched her swallow pills that never really seemed to do anything to quieten the thrashing going on in her chest.

“I fine,” said Root, aware that she probably didn’t sound anything close to fine.

“Root-”

“I’ve got to go,” Root said quickly and hung up.

She turned back around to find Daizo staring at his computer screen intensely and knew that he had been listening in. Sometimes she wondered if it had been a good idea to encourage him to learn some more English. But he just shrugged at her slightly and didn’t say anything.

Root smiled gratefully and sat down next to him to start fleshing out some more of her plans. Daizo was good at not asking questions he didn’t need to know the answer to. He did what he was told and with an efficiency that she was appreciative of.

Jason appeared just when Daizo was breaking into his third can of Redbull, sauntering into the apartment lazily.

“Nice of you to turn up,” said Root tightly.

Jason smiled at her sheepishly. “Sorry, I was across town. Traffic was a bitch.”

“When I say I need you here,” said Root, as Jason stepped towards them, “I mean now and not two hours later.”

“I know,” Jason said, “I’m sorry.” He looked it, Root thought, but she didn’t care about his apologies, she just wanted him working.

“Daizo will fill you in,” she said and headed to the bathroom, leaving them to it.

Her headache from this morning had turned from a dull throb into a sharp jabbing pain in the back of her eyes. Root swallowed down a couple of painkillers and squeezed her eyes shut for a few moments before opening them again and staring at herself in the mirror. She looked like crap, she thought, a combination of her developing migraine and her inability to have a decent night’s sleep these days.

Shaw was right, Root realised suddenly. She really did need a break.

_But not yet,_ she thought. She still had a job to do, and she wondered what the Machine thought about all this, her search for this elusive ghost. But, as was so frequent recently, there was nothing but silence in Root’s ear.

Root left the bathroom and found Daizo and Jason talking quietly.

“How are we getting on?” Root asked, forcing some brightness into her voice.

“Fine,” said Daizo vaguely from behind his computer. He looked a little guilty, Root thought, and she wondered just what the two of them had been talking about in her absence.

Root sat back down at her own computer and Jason moved around the table to stand beside her, fingers idly playing with the edges of the file on Austin Devine, but his eyes were on her.

“What?” said Root with a sigh.

“This has something to do with what happened in Russia, doesn’t it?” Jason asked quietly. “And those other two numbers?”

Root looked away and bit her lip, remembering the incident in Russia vividly, remembering how they had only made it out alive because Jason had seen something she hadn’t, had seen something the Machine hadn’t.

“Jason…” she said warningly, but he just ignored her and dipped his head down closer, presumably, she thought, to stop Daizo from listening in.

“Don’t you think you should let this go?” said Jason. “Just because this guy managed to pull one over on you-”

Root snapped her eyes back up at him then and clenched her teeth. “I think you should get back to work,” she said forcefully and nudged him towards his own computer.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Root,” he said softly, but when Root said nothing further he sat down behind his laptop without another word.

_I don’t want you to get hurt either,_ Root thought. _Any of you._


	5. Chapter 5

Shaw was starting to get a little sick of the sight of Greer's apartment building, but at least this time she had more of a plan other than 'sit outside and wait and see what happens.'

Finch had been a bit wary at first, but when it became clear they were going to get nothing from staring at his board all day, he finally relented, just as long as she took back-up with her. Shaw had snorted at that, but then Harold had looked at her with an odd sheen in his eyes, one she had only ever since once before, shortly after Carter's death, and she wondered if everyone recently was thinking of that stupid underground warehouse in the desert  where she had almost died.

She herself barely gave it a passing thought these days, the only time she did was when she caught a glance of the scar on her stomach, a constant reminder of her near death experience. But it was one of many, just another story to add to all her other wounds and sometimes she had to force herself to remember what it had been like for the others to watch her almost die. Shaw forced herself to remember now, remember the way Harold had been so tender, how John had barely left her side, how Root... How Root still didn't seem to be over it.

"Fine," Shaw relented, "I'll take back-up." Although she doubted Harold had been satisfied with her choice.

Daniel arrived sooner than she was expecting, plopping himself down in the passenger seat beside her.

"Took you long enough," she complained, but he just looked at her blankly and didn't say anything. "Are you carrying?" she asked.

He looked at her a little startled. "Do I need to be?"

Shaw shrugged. "Can't be too careful." She leaned over Daniel and opened the glove compartment. "Here, take this," she said, pulling a spare pistol out and placing it in Daniel's hands. He stared down at it for a moment before placing it in his jacket pocket and she was a little surprised that he didn't seem fazed by it. But then again, Root's little team of nerds had seen a lot recently.

"So," said Daniel, "why am I here?"

Shaw said, "In case there's a computer or something."

Daniel raised an eyebrow and Shaw sighed.

"I'm not spending hours trying to translate Daizo," said Shaw. "And Jason's kind of an ass."

Daniel snorted. "Why, because he's got a thing for your girlfriend?"

Shaw scowled. "She's not my girlfriend."

"Why, what would you call it?" Daniel asked. Shaw's scowl turned into a glare. "Okay," said Daniel hurriedly, holding his hands up defensively, "so you don't do small talk. Got it."

He remained silent for a moment and Shaw turned her attention back to the building, fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel.

"You know," said Daniel absently, "Jason's not that bad once you get to know him."

Shaw turned to face him with her eyes narrowed. "Which part of that wasn’t small talk?"

"Right, sorry. Just... What are we waiting on?"

Shaw clenched her teeth in annoyance. "The third part of our team," she said tightly.  Daniel opened his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it again at her look and Shaw was starting to re-evaluate her opinion on Daniel being the least annoying of the trio.

Said third member of their team arrived then and Lionel Fusco got into the backseat of the car. Shaw could tell by the look on his face that he was about to start whining and she prepared herself to tune him out.

"You know I'm not your personal lapdog, right?" he grumbled. "Some of us have real jobs."

Shaw rolled her eyes. "Who rattled your cage this week?"

Fusco ignored her and instead asked, "What are we doing?"

"Little B and E," Shaw said, handing Fusco a recent picture of John Greer. "Need you to watch the front, call if you see this guy."

"Seriously?" said Fusco, snatching the photograph off her and staring at it in annoyance. "You called me all the way down here for this?"

Shaw shrugged, not at all deterred by his irritation.

"How she rope you into this?" Fusco asked Daniel.

"Uh, my boss made me come," Daniel explained awkwardly.

"Your boss, as in her girlfriend?" said Fusco, nodding his head towards Shaw.

"She's _not_ my girlfriend," Shaw snapped, glaring at them both.

"What would you call it?" Fusco asked and Shaw gritted her teeth.

"She doesn't like small talk," Daniel said wisely to him.

"Can we just go and get this over with?" Shaw asked and waited a beat before getting out of the car, not bothering to wait for a response.

Daniel quickly followed her, walking behind her ever so slightly and, she was surprised but also a little relieved to note, not asking incessant questions. Either he really was the least annoying out of the three or Root had trained her helper monkeys well.

Shaw had been watching the front of the building long enough to know the doorman's routine and she knew that in about thirty seconds he was going to step inside for a five minute break before returning again. Shaw slowed her pace and waited for the doorman to disappear. Daniel stood silently beside her, watching the door and Shaw was more than a little impressed, she was reluctant to admit, when he moved before she did when the front entrance was clear. _This one learns quick_ , she thought and followed him.

They slipped inside the building unnoticed and took the elevator up to Greer's floor. Shaw made quick work of picking the lock and soon they were inside Greer's apartment. It was big, full of dusty antiques that seemed to be in complete contradiction with the man who had built an artificial god. Shaw waited a moment, listening carefully before deeming the place empty and gesturing for Daniel to follow her inside.

"So what are we looking for?" Daniel asked.

"I don’t know," said Shaw. "Something on the Machine... Samaritan... anything."

Daniel didn't question her vagueness; instead he just nodded, moving deeper into the apartment to have a look around.

Shaw started in the living room, searching through Greer’s belongs and making sure she placed everything back where she found it so as not to make it obvious someone was here. She found nothing of interest, a few books and magazines on the coffee table, and nothing of note amongst the knick-knacks and family photographs in their elegant wooden frames. Shaw scanned them carefully, not recognising anyone apart from Greer from her recon of the building, and quickly moved off into the next room.

She found the kitchen and frowned at the bare cupboards and empty refrigerator. When she checked the bedroom, it was the same. There were no clothes in the closet and the bed looked like it hadn’t been slept in. It was almost as if Greer didn’t actually live here and it made her wonder if he had somehow managed to sneak out on Reese’s watch. It wouldn’t surprise her if Greer had slipped out the back, paranoid that someone was watching the front, and she felt a little better about losing Greer earlier that day.

Daniel called to her from somewhere in the apartment and Shaw left the bedroom, finding him eventually it what looked like a small study. Bookshelves lined the walls and a large, heavy looking oak table sat in the centre of the room.

“Think I found Greer’s computer,” Daniel said, sitting at the desk with Greer’s laptop in front of him.

“Anything on it?” Shaw asked, moving around to stand beside him and looking over his shoulder.

“Just about to check,” said Daniel.

Shaw had a look around as Daniel typed away, but again there was nothing remotely suspicions, unless you counted Greer’s bad taste in hardback fiction. Shaw trailed her finger along some of the titles but froze when she heard the distinct sound of the front door opening. She glanced at Daniel, who had stopped typing and was staring at her as if waiting for her to make the next move.

“Fusco?” Shaw muttered. “Is Greer back?”

“No,” Fusco replied, his voice slightly muffled.

Shaw narrowed her eyes. “Are you eating in my car?”

She could here Fusco swallow and then his voice came out a little clearer. “No,” he said. “And no, your old man isn’t back.”

“Are you sure?” Shaw asked, creeping silently to the door and peering through it. She could see the hallway that led to the front door from here.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Fusco said haughtily. “This isn’t my first stakeout.”

But Shaw was barely listening as she caught a glimpse of someone. The maid, judging by the uniform the woman was wearing.

“Shit,” Shaw muttered and retreated back into the room. She turned around to find Daniel not where she had left him, but over by the window.

“Fire escape,” he said and pushed the window open.

“Good thinking,” Shaw said, moving over beside him to peer out the window. “Grab that,” she added, pointing back at the laptop before climbing through the window. Daniel nodded, snatching the computer up and following her out onto the fire escape.

It didn’t take them long to reach the bottom, where they met Fusco who had an astounded look on his face and Shaw could tell he was about to go into one of his usual rants.

“You two are nuts, you know that?” he said in annoyance. “Anyone could see you coming down there.”

Shaw shrugged. “Why didn’t you tell us the maid was coming up?” she asked irately.

“How was I supposed to know?” Fusco snapped. “Next time you want someone to play watchdog, ask your all-seeing other half.”

“She’s not my-” Shaw began through gritted teeth, but then quickly snapped her mouth shut, shaking her head in annoyance. “Never mind,” she muttered, judging from both their looks that they weren’t going to bother listening to her protests anyway.

“I’m going back to the precinct,” Fusco said and disappeared back the way he had come.

“What’s his problem?” Daniel asked as they watched the detective stomp away.

Shaw shrugged and then glanced at Daniel. He had barely broken a sweat during their great escape, despite her expecting him to freak out and start panicking, and she found herself becoming more and more impressed by him by the minute. She was starting to think he wasn’t as nerdy as he appeared to be.

“You kept your head cool in there,” Shaw said casually.

Daniel shrugged. “I’ve been in worst situations with relevant numbers.”

“Speaking of which,” said Shaw as they began walking back to her car, “don’t you have one to get back to?”

“No,” said Daniel.

Shaw froze slightly, but she recovered quickly enough that she didn’t think Daniel had noticed.

“I can come back to the library and take a look at this if you want?” Daniel continued, oblivious, as he lifted up the laptop.

“Sure, whatever,” Shaw said absently as she got into the car. But she wasn’t paying any attention to that either. Instead her mind could focus on nothing but the fact that Root had lied to her about dealing with a relevant number. And as she drove back to the library with her mind only half on the road, she wondered just what the hell Root was up to.

Finch greeted them when they got back to the library and he and Daniel quickly got to work trying to find out what was on Greer’s computer. Instead of watching them work, bored out of her mind, Shaw focused on re-studying Greer’s life story on the board. But her mind quickly wandered, unable to concentrate, always spiralling back to Root and what she was doing, the thought leaving Shaw with nothing but a heavy weight in the pit of her stomach.

“There’s nothing on here,” Daniel declared after a while.

“Nothing but an empty calendar and a few grocery lists,” Finch clarified.

“Yeah, there wasn’t even any porn,” Daniel added as he continued to stare at the laptop. “Not that I was looking for that or anything,” he said hurriedly, glancing awkwardly at them both.

“I’m afraid you’ve come to a dead end, Miss Shaw,” said Harold.

But Shaw wasn’t ready to give up yet, already formulating another plan in her mind.

Harold looked at her curiously as if he could almost tell what she was thinking. “Whatever you’re planning,” he said, “it’ll have to wait. You and Mr Reese have a new number.”

*

Root took Daizo with her and left Jason at the safe house, because as much as she trusted him to have her back if things got messy, she didn’t think she could deal with his fussing and disapproving looks right now. He tried to talk her out of it again, one last pathetic effort at making her change her mind and even tried to insist on coming with her when it became clear she wasn’t going to relent.

“Just be careful,” Jason said as she and Daizo headed out the door.

“Thank you for your concern, Jason,” said Root, “but I can take care of myself.”

He didn’t make any further protests, mainly because she slammed the door in his face and followed Daizo out to the car. It was another one of Harold’s, the Mercedes this time.

“What?” she said with a frown, noticing the grin that had formed on Daizo’s face. But Daizo just shrugged, shaking his head in what appeared to be amusement. Well Root didn’t get the joke, and decided she wasn’t in the mood for one anyway as her head continued to throb. But she pushed past the pain and drove them across town in silence.

It wasn’t quite dark yet, but it would be soon and that suited her plan just fine. Root turned the headlights off before taking them down a narrow side street and parked the car out of sight. From here she could see the street corner where Austin Devine’s crew of dealers made their business. But tonight she knew that Austin himself would be here, because she had ensured it herself by making sure he was tipped off that some unknown rival drug dealer was about to make a move on his turf.

The man himself appeared, looking just like in his pictures, tall and scruffy with tattoos running up and down both arms. Root saw the bulge at his back and knew that Austin was carrying a gun, knew that it was on obvious show for her benefit and she wondered how many of his crew were carrying tonight as well.

“Do you remember the plan?” she asked Daizo. He nodded absently and stared opened mouthed when she armed herself with only a taser. Apparently he had seen Austin’s gun too. “Tell me,” Root said, making him run through it again.

“We wait until the kidnappers you hired show up,” said Daizo carefully. “Wait until they engage Devine’s crew.” He nodded towards the street corner.

Root nodded. “And then?”

“Then we grab one of the kidnappers,” said Daizo, “and I try to find his boss using his phone, whilst you try to...”

Daizo stopped talking and hugged his laptop to his chest.

_Torture him for information,_ Root thought.

“Good,” she said. “Are you ready?”

Daizo nodded but he didn’t look it. She didn’t feel ready either, but she didn’t show it, instead smiling at Daizo reassuringly long enough to make her wonder who it was she was trying to reassure. Because as far as plans went, this one kind of sucked, and not for the first time that day Root wished the Machine would give her something, _anything,_ that would help _._ But as usual, She remained quiet. Root bit her lip and tried not to think about all the ways this could go wrong.

 “They’re late,” Daizo said, checking his watch. Root frowned. She had expected this ghost to be punctual, and part of her wondered, part of her _hoped_ , that he wasn’t going to show up.

But then there was a shout from the street corner and Root could hear the sounds of car engines coming up the street.

“Stay in the car,” she told Daizo. He looked like he was about to protest, but eventually he just nodded. _Still that blind trust_ , she thought sadly, and got out of the car, her taser firm in hand. She felt suddenly very inadequate holding it and she wondered what the hell she was doing, if she was out of her mind.

Root didn’t know what she had been expecting; drug dealers shooting wildly at each other, yes, but not the van that parked itself and one end of the alley, blocking their escape. Root took in its absent number plates and black tinted windows, knew right then and there that this had been a mistake. Root glanced behind her and saw Austin and his crew of drug dealers step away from their corner and move towards them, saw Austin pull the gun out from his back.

Root yelled for Daizo to get down and could only watch, frozen as if someone had glued her feet to the ground, as the side door to the van opened and four men stepped out, faces covered by balaclavas and each holding a semi-automatic submachine gun.

Luckily Daizo was thinking more clearly than her and was sliding himself along into the driver’s seat, getting the engine started before the first bullets started flying.

It was the sound of the gunfire that got her moving. Daizo leaned over and opened the passenger door for her and she jumped in, keeping her head down low as bullets slammed into the car.

“Drive!” she yelled, but Daizo already had his foot pressed down hard against the accelerator and they shot forward, barrelling into the group of drug dealers. Root caught a glimpse of them scattering out of the way, but there was a thud and bump underneath them that told her that they hadn’t all been so lucky.

The windshield shattered as a bullet tore through it, sending shards of glass down on them both. Daizo had his head down so low she worried they were going to crash into something before they made it much further.

Root chanced a glance out the back window. The van was too big to fit down the narrow street, but the drug dealers had got back on their feet and soon they were being shot at again. But Daizo kept his cool, got them out of there and put enough distance between them and the drug dealers to feel safe enough to bring the car to a stop. Grey, curling smoke was pouring out the engine and she didn’t think they’d be getting much further in it anyway. She laughed hysterically then, imagining the look on Harold’s face when he found out she wrecked one of his cars.

Daizo stared at her curiously and gestured to her face. Root sobered up suddenly and touched a finger to her cheek, drawing back blood from a cut she must have gotten when the windshield smashed. She hadn’t even felt it and she stared down at the blood in her hand, slick and warm, and found she couldn’t take her eyes off it, couldn’t shake the feeling that this was somehow a warning. She didn’t know what that warning was but she knew that they had been lucky, that if it hadn’t been for Daizo she’d be dead by now.

She felt her heart lurch then, clenching tightly and sucking all the air out of her lungs. She had almost gotten him killed. Daizo was barely out of his teens and she had almost killed him.

“Are you okay?” Daizo asked.

“No,” Root breathed out quietly and she didn’t think she would ever be okay again.

Daizo opened his mouth to say something but Root’s phone rang, cutting him off.

Root pulled the phone out of her pocket, noticed absently that her hands were shaking, and stared at the unknown number. She knew who it was, felt it like ice in her heart, even if part of her still hoped it was the Machine, and she answered it with a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.

“You’ve been looking for me,” said a cold voice. Her ghost.

“Who is this?” Root said, feigning ignorance and hating the way her voice sounded so weak.

“Don’t play games with me, _Root,_ ” said the voice, “you know who I am.”

“What do you want?” Root asked, trying to ignore the way Daizo was looking at her worriedly.

“Nothing,” said the ghost. “I’m impressed by your efforts,” he added, “but you won’t find me.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Root said with more confidence than she felt.

“Call this a warning,” said the ghost. “Back off.”

Root swallowed thickly. “Or what?”

“You don’t want to find out.”

The line went dead and Root stared at the phone blankly for a moment before placing it back in her pocket.

“Looks like the fly trapped the spider,” said Daizo wisely. Root glanced up at him, startled by his odd choice of metaphor. He was right though, the ghost hadn’t fallen for Root’s ruse one bit, instead he had turned it against her.

“We need to dump the car,” said Root, knowing it wasn’t safe to stay where they were. Austin Devine looked like the kind of man who would hold a grudge.

Daizo nodded. “I’ll do it. Go back to the safe house.”

“Are you sure?” Root asked, but Daizo insisted and she got out of the car and made her own way back to the safe house without him.

It was late when Root got back, but Jason was still up, frantically waiting for her.

"Where the hell have you been?" he hissed as soon as she stepped through the door. "What happened?"

"Long story," Root said, brushing off his concerns and stepping further into the darkened room. She noticed a flash of blonde curly hair then and looked at Gen fast asleep on the couch with a frown.

"What's she doing here?" Root whispered.

"Finch dropped her off," Jason explained with a shrug. "They got a number or something."

Root felt a flash of annoyance that Finch hadn't even tried to contact her.

"Hey, what happened..." Jason said suddenly, his fingers reaching up to the cut on her cheek. Root flinched away from his touch slightly as the wound began to sting.

"It’s fine," she said, grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand way.

"I hope this means you’re planning on letting this go," Jason said quietly.

"No," said Root, "I'm not."

Jason frowned at her and she noticed Gen stir out of the corner of her eye. Root glanced at her and noticed that the kid was wide awake, staring at them both curiously.

"Hey," said Root, dropping Jason's wrist and moving to kneel in front of Gen. "You ready to go home, kiddo?"

Gen nodded through a yawn and stared up past Root with a frown. "Get your stuff," said Root and watched in silence as Gen pulled her shoes on. She could feel Jason's eyes on her and she wondered if he was shooting her that same worried look from earlier. She ignored him though and instead focused on Gen, helping her put her jacket on. Gen snatched up her backpack when she was ready to go and slung it over one shoulder.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Jason said hopefully.

Root smiled at him absently and led Gen out of the safe house with one hand on her shoulder. They met Daniel coming in, carrying a package under one arm.

"Oh, hey," he said a little breathlessly. "Are you going home?" Root nodded. "Can you give this to Shaw?" Daniel asked holding out the package.

Root took it from his hands, frowning at it. It was heavier than she thought it would be. "What is it?"

"Uh..." Daniel said, glancing at Gen briefly before darting his eyes back to Root. "Surveillance equipment."

"Cool!" said Gen and made to reach for it, but Root held the package high out of her reach.

Root didn't need to ask Daniel what it was for though, and she wondered just how far Shaw was willing to take this thing with Greer. "No luck today?" she asked.

"Not exactly," said Daniel. "You?"

Root glanced at Gen who was staring at them both curiously, always eager for new information, and Root knew she was filing everything they said away for later.

"No," was all Root said and nudged Gen out the door.

"You can put that in here if you want," Gen said, gesturing to her backpack as they climbed down the stairs.

Root clutched the package tighter under her arm. "Like I'm going to fall for that," she said, knowing full well that whatever was in that package would disappear long before they got home if Gen got anywhere near it. Gen's face fell slightly and she tried going for pout (that puppy dog look that Harold always seemed to give in to but which Root was adamant she was _not_ going to fall for) but it was kind of ruined by the large yawn that came out of her mouth.

It wasn't until they were out on the street that Root realised she didn't have a car anymore. She knew Gen would whine if she suggested they walk, so Root hailed down a cab. Besides, the kid was dead on her feet and Root wasn't fairing much better.

Gen pressed up against the door almost immediately, her head resting against the window with her eyes closed. Root thought she had fallen asleep again until Gen shifted suddenly and moved towards Root's side of the car, resting her head on Root's shoulder and curling up against her side.

"You make a comfier pillow than the window," Gen explained tiredly.

Root was a little startled for a moment but then she put her arm around Gen a little awkwardly, pulling her closer. Gen smiled up at her then and Root felt some of the tension leave her body. Gen was warm and safe against her side and for the first time all day, Root felt a little better. Root sat there, dazed for a moment, unable to comprehend that an eleven year old could have this effect on her, could make her feel like the world was a little brighter, that not everything was bad code.

“Hey, Root?” Gen mumbled after a little while.

“Hm?” said Root, struggling to keep her own eyes open.

“Jason’s a little weird, right?”

Root shifted slightly and frowned. “Why do you say that?”

Gen shrugged. “I dunno… I like Daniel and Daizo though,” she said through a yawn. “Daizo lets me play video games.”

Root hummed non-committedly and she was pretty sure Gen had fallen asleep again.

Eventually, the cab pulled up outside their apartment building and Root nudged Gen awake. She hopped out of the cab quickly, abandoning her stuff and rushing up to the front of the building. Root rolled her eyes, paid the driver and gathered up Gen's backpack and Shaw's package.

"Jeez," said Root catching up to Gen, "what have you got in this thing, bricks?"

"No," said Gen hurriedly, snatching the bag off her and running up the stairs.

Root shook her head and wondered if all kids acted that weird.

*

Dealing with a number had gotten rid of some of Shaw's frustrations about Greer, but she was still left with a tight anger, bubbling away inside of her, and she knew she wouldn't be able to keep it contained for long. She just didn't know what would be the fuse that would spark her off.

Her barely controlled temper was even starting to get on Reese’s nerves and eventually he snapped at her to go home and get some sleep, and she left him babysitting their number as she stormed off home.

Part of Shaw was hoping that the apartment would be empty, or at least that the other two would be fast asleep, but she had no such luck and she found Root waiting for her, sitting at the kitchen counter with her hands wrapped around a mug of something steaming.

“Hey,” said Root quietly.

Shaw didn’t say anything and she could tell by Root’s quiet demeanour and the way she ducked her head that something was up. Shaw moved over to her and grabbed her by the chin to tilt Root’s face upwards and her anger sparked when she saw the cut on her face.

“You want to tell me what happened?” Shaw said tightly and gritted her teeth at Root’s mock exasperated eye roll.

“It’s nothing,” said Root. She was right, it was barely even a scratch, but that wasn’t what had Shaw so pissed off. It was the way that Root tried to hide it that had her fuming.

“The hell it is,” said Shaw heatedly, dropping her hand and Root looked away.

“Daniel left this for you,” said Root, changing the subject and pushing a brown package across the counter. “Surveillance equipment?”

“We need eyes and ears on Greer,” said Shaw, wondering why the hell she had to justify this.

“You’re going to go in there again after almost getting caught the first time?” said Root sceptically.

“Did Daniel tell you that?” asked Shaw.

“No,” said Root. “The Machine did.”

Shaw let out a breath of annoyance because that was just fucking typical, wasn’t it?

“So let me get this straight,” said Shaw, her words coming out tight and hot, “the Machine can still spy on me for you… but it can’t tell us what Greer is up to?”

Root bit her lip and looked away and Shaw wondered if another lie was about to come out of her mouth. “Shaw, I–”

“Are you guys fighting?” Gen had appeared out of nowhere and she stood staring at them both with a dejected look on her face.

“No, hon,” said Root softly, glancing at Shaw wearily, “we’re not fighting.”

“Yes you are,” said Gen, narrowing her eyes. “I know you are.”

“What do you mean you know we are?” Shaw asked.

Gen shifted guilty on her feet, her eyes darting to the side. Shaw followed her gaze and saw that stupid watch Root had brought her back a few weeks ago resting next to the toaster. Shaw knew by its blinking red light that it had recorded everything.

Shaw snatched it up in annoyance, her temper flaring again. “You really need to stop spying on people,” Shaw said, fumbling to switch the damn thing off.

“But I’m a spy,” Gen said.

“No, you’re not,” Shaw snapped. “You’re just a stupid kid who needs to learn to mind her own business.”

Gen’s eyes welled up then and Shaw thought she was going to start crying, but instead she turned on her heel and stormed off into her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her. The ringing silence that followed was suffocating and Shaw tossed the watch onto the counter beside Root, glaring at her as if to say _this all you fault_.

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” Shaw muttered, although she was too angry to do any sleeping tonight.

Root pressed her lips tightly together, shaking her head. “Don’t bother. I’ll go back to the safe house.”

“Why, because Jason’s there?” Shaw blurted before she could think about it and realised almost immediately that it was a stupid thing to say.

“What the hell does that mean?” said Root, her forehead creasing in confusion.

Shaw wanted to laugh, because seriously, how clueless could you get? But she didn’t, because she really didn’t find any of this funny.

“You didn’t have a relevant number, did you?” Shaw said instead, getting to the point of what was really bothering her. She was tired of playing games, of pretending that everything was fine when it wasn’t. She was sick of Root trying to hide things from her for whatever stupid reason she thought was good enough.

Root flinched but quickly recovered. “And what,” she said defensively, “you think I was with Jason… doing what, exactly?”

Shaw shrugged. She didn’t know and that was the goddamn point. She wanted to get angry again. Angry she could deal with. But no matter how angry she got, it was always outweighed by the worry that sat heavy in the pit of her stomach. Worry she didn’t know how to deal with. This… _thing_ with Root she didn’t know how to deal with. And it felt like every day she was drowning, stumbling about blindly without a clue about what to do next.

“I hate this,” she snapped. She hated the way Jason managed to piss her off so easily every time he so much as looked in Root’s direction. Hated the way she seemed so inadequate next to Root, who seemed to breeze through this whole thing so easily, leaving Shaw floundering in her wake. This _thing_ that Shaw was so adamantly refusing to refer to by the R word, because wouldn’t that just make it all the more complicated?

Shaw glanced up at Root and wished she could tell what she was thinking. But Root just stared at her stonily with her arms folded and Shaw wondered what the hell she had to be so angry about.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” Shaw said quietly.

“At the moment,” said Root coldly, “you’re being kind of an ass.”

Shaw closed her eyes briefly and swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not me you need to be apologising to,” said Root, glancing at Gen’s closed bedroom door.

Shaw bowed her head, not entirely surprised that she had managed to fuck that up as well.

“Root-”

But Root wasn’t listening to her and Shaw watched silently as she left, slamming the front door shut behind her.


	6. Chapter 6

Shaw had slept on and off for maybe two hours in total and she was tired and cranky when she eventually gave up pretending she was ever going to fall asleep. She pushed the crankiness aside though when she noted Gen's firmly shut bedroom door and the air of stilted silence within the entire apartment. Shaw knocked on the door, receiving nothing but silence and she wished that Root was there, because Root would have known what to say to entice Gen out of her room.

Shaw cursed under her breath and headed to the kitchen, raking through the cupboards to see what ingredients she had and began piling things up on the counter. When she had everything she needed she started to put together some pancake batter, but her eyes kept darting in Gen's direction and she wondered if the kid was ever going to come out of her room.

Shaw may not be very good at enticing Gen out with words, but she knew that Gen wouldn't be able to resist the smell of freshly cooked pancakes, especially when Shaw deliberately wafted the smell under her bedroom door.

Eventually, when Shaw had a plateful of pancakes already made, Gen tiptoed out of her room cautiously and sat at the kitchen counter. The look she gave Shaw was pure loathing and Shaw placed the plate of pancakes in front of her, struggling to halt the eye roll that she was so quick to respond with.

Gen continued to stare at her stonily even as Shaw drenched the plate of food in maple syrup.

Shaw handed her a fork. "I'm sorry, okay."

Gen's eyes darted down to the plate briefly and Shaw could tell by the way she licked her lips that her hunger was outweighing any residual hurt feelings.

"Okay," Gen said meekly, taking the fork and tucking into her breakfast.

Shaw stood back and leaned against the counter opposite, watching her eat.

"Where's Root?" Gen asked thickly through a mouthful of pancakes.

"She went back to the safe house," Shaw said, trying not to think about their argument last night and all the stupid things she had said.

"Were you mean to her too?" Gen asked snidely.

Shaw looked away. "Something like that," she said vaguely.

Gen ate a few more of her pancakes before she paused again to ask Shaw another question. "Are you going to make her pancakes too?"

Shaw smiled slightly, looking down at her feet.

"I think it's going to take a lot more than that, kid," Shaw said quietly.

Gen looked down at her pancakes sadly for moment, pushing the remainders around on her plate with her fork.

"Root's sick, isn't she?" said Gen suddenly.

Shaw stiffened and tried to keep her features neutral. She wondered how long Gen had been spying on them, what else she had heard.

"Why do you say that?" Shaw asked cagily.

"I'm not stupid, Shaw," said Gen, letting her fork fall to the plate. "She looks sick."

Shaw swallowed thickly and couldn't help but agree, because yeah, Root did look ill lately, no matter how many pills she swallowed or how many protests that she was fine came out of her mouth. But Shaw didn't confirm or dispute Gen's theory. If Root had wanted the kid to know, she would have told her herself, and Shaw tried not think about how that was just one more thing to add to the pile of things that Root was keeping from them. She tried not to think about how she only knew because she had caught Root taking a handful of pills one day, knew what they were for just by reading the label, her medical training diagnosing and assessing on the spot and leaving Shaw with that veil of worry in the pit of her stomach that had never really seemed to have gone away since.

Gen continued to stare down at her unfinished breakfast sadly and Shaw sighed heavily at how depressed she looked.

"Here," said Shaw, taking Gen's stupid spy watch out of her pocket and holding it out to her.

Gen's face lit up. "I can have it back?"

"Yes," said Shaw slowly, starting to think it wasn’t maybe such a good idea after all. "Just... use it wisely."

"Is that code for don't spy on you and Root?" Gen asked, strapping the watch to her wrist.

"Yes," said Shaw haughtily, still annoyed about last night, but she tried her best to contain it for Gen's sake. "Go get dressed; I'll drop you off at the library."

Gen's face fell at that but she complied anyway.

"Hey," Shaw called, grabbing her by the arm to stop her from going any further. "You know I don't totally hate having you around, right?" she said quietly.

Gen smiled. "I know,” she said. And after a while added: “And I don't totally hate being here, either.”

Shaw squeezed her arm for a moment and then nudged in her the direction of her bedroom, feeling satisfied that she had at least fixed one of the messes she had made.

*

Root woke with a start, her neck sore from sleeping on the couch and her entire body still feeling exhausted despite the three hours of sleep she had just had. It was more sleep than she had managed to catch recently but it still wasn't enough.

Root felt someone watching her and sat up, her eyes finding Jason's at the other end of the room. She wondered how long he had been standing there, but didn't ask.

"Bad dream?" Jason asked.

Root didn't answer him. She didn't want to talk about it. Or remember it.

"Is everything okay?" Jason continued, taking a step towards her. Root thought about lying, but then decided there was little point.

"Not really," said Root quietly, looking down to watch her fingers play idly with a loose thread in the blanket that was still lying half on top of her. She didn't notice Jason move towards her again until he was right in front of her.

"Here, I made you some tea," he said, holding out a mug.

Root watched the steam curl upwards and took it from him silently but didn't drink from it. Jason took it as invitation to sit down next to her though, close enough that their knees were touching.

"Did you and Shaw have a fight?" Jason asked.

Root wanted to laugh - their entire relationship (if that's what you wanted to call it and Root wasn't even sure if you could) was based on anger and aggression, that tightly coiled darkness that lived inside both of them. Fighting was just par for the course.

"I can't say I'm surprised," said Jason, not looking at her.

"What do you mean?" asked Root, watching him carefully.

Jason shrugged. "Come on, this is Shaw we’re talking about. She doesn't give a damn about anyone. She can't."

"You don't know anything about her," Root said coolly.

"I know she can't give you what you want, what you need," said Jason.

“And what is it that I need?” asked Root stonily, despite the ring of truth to his words that she didn’t want to hear.

He looked at her so intensely then, his eyes boring into hers as if he were searching for something, that Root suddenly realised what Shaw had meant last night about her being with Jason. But she didn't have time to think about the implications of that any further because Jason leaned forward to bring his lips against hers.

Root's first instinct was to push him away. Her second was to smack herself across the head for being so stupid.

"What are you doing?" Root said, her hand still on his shoulder from where she had forcefully pushed him away.

But Jason didn't answer her, didn’t explain himself, because the front door opened suddenly and Root let her hand fall from Jason's shoulder when she saw Shaw and Gen. She was tempted to inch herself away from him, but worried that would make her look more guilty than she already felt.

She noticed the way Jason got casually to his feet though, the way he smirked at Shaw as he walked away and she wondered why the hell she hadn't seen it before.

Shaw glowered at Jason, even after he had left the room she continued to stare at the spot where he had been. Then she looked at Root and Root saw the way she carefully reigned in her anger, knew how much effort it must have took her.

Shaw shook her head, as if to clear it of whatever thoughts her imagination had come up with. Root wished she could help, wished she could explain herself but it felt like her tongue had been glued down.

"Can Gen stay here today?" Shaw asked, her voice tight and controlled.

"Of course," said Root as if it were up to her. She smiled slightly at Gen. "What's going on?"

"Apparently _somebody_ ," said Shaw savagely, glancing pointedly at Gen, "thought it would be funny to move all of the books in the library."

Gen cringed. "Harold's really mad," she whispered conspiratorially.

"I can imagine," said Root, knowing she should probably look disapproving at this point but found she would rather smile instead, "he likes his books."

Shaw's phone rang then and she answered it with an annoyed, "What now?" She listened for a few moments, her features shifting from annoyance to confusion. "I don't know anything about your stupid first editions..." she trailed off, her eyes narrowing as she stared down at Gen. Gen shifted guilty and tightened her grip on the backpack strap over her shoulder.

"Hold on, Finch," said Shaw and snatched the bag off Gen, tearing it open and looking inside. "Seriously?" she said.

"What? I was just looking at them," Gen said defensively. Her eyes met Root’s and Root knew she wasn’t being entirely truthful.

“Yeah, Finch, I’ve got them,” Shaw said into her phone. “Okay, fine,” she snapped and hung up, glaring at Gen.

But Gen ignored her withering look. “Is Daizo awake? I wanna play Far Cry 3.”

“I don’t know,” Root replied with a small smile, “why don’t you go check.”

Root watched her dash off further into the house and could feel the heavy weight of Shaw’s gaze on her.

“That looked cosy,” Shaw said darkly when Root glanced up at her and Root didn’t need to ask to know what she was talking about.

Root looked away and placed the cooling, undrunk mug of tea on the coffee table, half expecting Shaw to storm out and was more than a little surprised to find Shaw hovering by her side when she looked up again.

“You left these,” Shaw said quietly, holding out a pill bottle.

Root stared at them for a moment. “Oh,” she said, “thanks.” Root reached for the bottle but Shaw didn’t let go, and Root stared at their clasped hands for a moment before glancing up at her. Root couldn’t read the look on her face, it was something dark and heavy, like she was waging a war within herself and struggling to survive. Root wondered how much of it was her fault and wished she could make it go away.

“Look, I… uh,” Shaw said, struggling to articulate her words. Root stayed quiet, knowing she would get them out eventually, knowing that if she opened her mouth it would be like an electric spark that would close Shaw off and seal her lips shut. Shaw cleared her throat. “I don’t expect you to tell me every single detail of what’s going on in your life. And frankly, if you did, I’d probably just find it incredibly annoying.”

Root smiled slightly and was pleased when Shaw smiled back.

“It’s just…” Shaw continued. “Whatever’s going on… just tell me when you’re ready, okay?”

“Okay,” Root mumbled thickly, her eyes pricking uncomfortably and she suddenly felt like the whole world was crumbling underneath her, like she was about to fall and take everyone right along with her.

“And do me a favour?” Shaw asked. Root nodded, too afraid to speak, too afraid to do anything in case it ripped open the spiralling rush of emotions that seemed to be swelling up inside of her. “Just… be careful.”

“Shaw, I –” Root began croakily, suddenly wanting to tell her everything. But then she looked past Shaw, saw Jason watching them carefully, saw the way his eyes seemed to dart proudly between them as if he had just proved something to himself and Root found she didn’t know what to say.

Shaw followed her gaze and let go of her hand forcefully when she saw Jason looking at them and, this time, she did storm out.

“Sorry,” Jason muttered, but she didn’t think he looked sorry at all, and he disappeared back into his room without another word.

Root wiped at her eyes and smiled brighter than she felt when she saw Gen come back into the room.

“Daizo wasn’t awake,” said Gen, slumping into the couch beside Root. “He yelled at me in Japanese. I think they were the bad words.”

Root smiled and leaned back into the couch, watching Gen carefully out of the corner of her eye. “You want to tell me why you really took Harold’s books?”

Gen shrugged slightly and sighed heavily at Root’s pointed look. “Okay, fine,” she said. “I was trying to figure out his code.”

“Code?” said Root, frowning.

“Yeah, you know… for the numbers? You guys are always going on about them.”

“Gen…” said Root carefully and realised just how worryingly perceptive this kid really was, realised it was worrying because it kind of reminded Root of herself and part of that terrified her. “You really _do_ need to stop spying on people,” she said not unkindly.

“But you guys never tell me anything,” Gen protested.

“Gen,” she said gently, “there’s a reason.”

“Why, because I’m just a stupid kid?” Gen said sullenly.

“You’re not a stupid kid,” said Root, nudging her shoulder with Gen’s. “You’re a very smart kid. _Too_ smart.”

Gen shrugged nonchalantly and leaned a little further against Root. Root suddenly felt very uncomfortable at the casual way Gen seemed to act around her now, like it was natural and normal and Root felt very much like she was unworthy of it, and she itched to do something with her hands, anything to gain some distance.

“Did you have breakfast?” Root asked.

Gen nodded. “Shaw made me pancakes.”

“You made up, huh?” said Root, knowing that food was a big gesture for Shaw, no matter which direction it came from.

“I guess you guys didn’t?” Gen said quietly.

Root smiled sadly and didn’t know what to say.

She didn’t have to say anything though, because Daizo shuffled out of his room then, his hair sticking up wildly at odd angles and he scowled down at Gen as she smiled brightly at him.

“Can we play the X-box now?” Gen asked him excitedly. “I’m going to kick your butt.”

Daizo rolled his eyes. “Can I have breakfast first?” he asked through a yawn.

“Okay,” said Gen hopping to her feet. “But hurry up.” She then proceeded to hover by his elbow, nattering in his ear, until he had finished.

*

Finch cornered Shaw as soon as she walked into the library, snatching the bag of first editions out of her hand and dumping a box of heavy hard backs in her arms. Shaw scowled at his back as she followed him further into the library, listening as he complained about having to reorganise everything.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Shaw said, dumping the box of books on the floor by his desk, glancing at Reese as he sorted out some books on one of the shelves. "It was just a joke."

"The big deal, Miss Shaw," said Finch tersely as he began to take the first editions out of Gen's bag and place them carefully on his desk, "is that we received a number this morning and I can't find out who it is."

Shaw frowned, remembering vaguely how Reese had once told her about Finch using the Dewey Decimal system to decipher numbers. "I thought the Machine had evolved enough to start giving us numbers directly?" Shaw asked, realising how much that sentence sounded like something Root would say.

"I guess the Machine has decided to go back to the old system," said Reese with a shrug. Shaw frowned at that. It didn't sit well with her, but the others didn't seem to notice. Maybe it was because she had more of a direct line to the Machine ever since this thing with Root had started, but to Shaw, this change in the Machine's behaviour was more than a little worrying.

Finch slammed the last of the first editions on the top of the pile. "Perhaps it was a mistake to allow Genrika to stay with you. Given that she has seemed to pick up on Miss Groves' more kleptomanic tendencies."

"That's not fair, Finch," said Shaw and not for the first time Shaw wished Root would stop baiting him with this stupid car thing.

"Yeah," Reese agreed, much to Shaw's surprise. "Root's good with Gen. Better than Shaw actually."

Shaw glared at him. "Thanks, Reese. Very helpful."

"Be that as it may," said Harold. "Genrika could do with a bit more discipline. Perhaps it's best if she stays with me for a while."

"Finch-" Shaw began. Despite all her protests about Gen living with her and not wanting to have to put up with her pre-teen angst, she found she really did not like that idea at all. But Finch ignored her and limped off into another part if the library.

"He's overreacting, right?" Shaw said as soon as she was sure he had gone.

Reese shrugged. "He doesn't like people messing with his books."

But Shaw wondered if there was more to it than that and she really didn't like the way he was so quick to blame Root.

"We should probably give him some space to cool off," Reese suggested.

Shaw nodded in agreement. "Wanna help me bug Greer's place?"

"Still bitter he managed to get away way from you?" he asked with a smirk.

Shaw scowled. "You’re the one that let him get away during the night."

" _Maybe_ let him get away during the night," Reese corrected as they headed out. "We know you _definitely_ lost him."

"Whatever," Shaw muttered in annoyance as John continued to smirk smugly down at her.

*

Daizo and Gen made Root vacate the couch so they could play video games and she found herself wandering around the apartment aimlessly. It was tidier than usual, and she rather suspected that was Daniel’s doing. He had always been the most organised out of the three and less likely to leave his crap lying around.

Eventually, Root grabbed a spare laptop and sat at the dining table, going through everything they had on the ghost, trying to spot something she had missed. But she knew everything off by heart by now, knew there wasn’t going to be some new shred of information that would suddenly jump out at her and allow all the pieces to fall into place. She sent a few more feelers out anyway, not willing to give up hope and she already had three vague plans formulating in her mind.

She looked up when she heard Jason come into the room, closed the lid of the laptop so he wouldn’t see what she was working on and start lecturing her again. He glanced at the computer briefly and she could tell by his look that he knew exactly what she had been doing and didn’t like it.

Root noticed the duffel bag at his feet and raised her eyebrow at him before he could say anything.

“Going somewhere?” she asked distantly, trying not think about the feel of his lips on hers, how the scruff of his beard had scratched along her jaw.

“Uh, yeah,” said Jason, glancing at his bag briefly before focusing on her again. “Thought I’d visit my brother for a few days… give you some space.”

“Jason,” she said warningly because she didn’t like the way he was looking at her, so earnest and hopeful.

“Just think about what I said,” he added. Root bit her lip and looked away, pretended that that wasn’t precisely what she had been thinking about all morning. She watched Gen and Daizo for a moment, smiled slightly when Gen cheered obnoxiously when she beat him at their game.

Jason picked up his bag and stepped towards her, reaching a hand out to brush the hair away from her face. Root flinched away from his touch and he let his hand fall to the side.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said quietly and left. Root watched him go and once again asked herself how she hadn’t seen it before. It made her wonder who else knew, because now that she thought about it, it was kind of obvious. Daizo and Daniel probably knew, and Shaw clearly did and was definitely not happy about it. And as much as she found Shaw’s jealously to be oddly touching, and somewhat amusing, she decided she didn’t want it. It wasn’t warranted because nothing was ever going to happen between her and Jason, and Root suddenly felt annoyed that Shaw would think otherwise.

Gen cheered again, capturing Root’s attention and she got up, lingering behind the couch and watched them play for a bit, her lips twitching in amusement whenever Gen got particularly aggressive with the controller.

“Are you guys planning on moving at all today?” Root asked.

“We’ll probably stop for lunch,” Gen said absently.

“Probably,” Daizo agreed.

Gen let out a noise of annoyance when Daizo’s character hit hers with a grenade. “That’s cheating,” she complained.

“You know this game is kind of stupid, right?” said Root, more to get a reaction out of them and see if they were still listening to her than anything else.

One of them paused the game and they both turned their heads simultaneously to glare at her. Root bit her lip, fighting back the amusement.

“It’s not stupid,” said Gen.

“It’s the greatest game ever,” added Daizo.

“Whatever,” said Root, “I’m going out for a bit.”

Daizo looked at her questioningly for a moment but quickly turned his attention back to the game when Gen un-paused it suddenly. “Do you need me to come?” he asked, glancing at her briefly.

Root saw a dash of worry there and decided to ignore it. “No,” she said, “but thanks.”

Root didn’t give him time to protest and quickly headed out the door. She didn’t have a car and thought about borrowing one of Harold’s again, but then decided against it after what happened to the last one. Which she still hadn’t figured out how she was going to explain away when he asked, and he most definitely would. But that would only lead to more questions that she wasn’t prepared to answer, not yet. So instead she took a cab across town, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu as she neared the street corner from last night. At least this time though there was no van of four thugs and a gang of drug dealers trying to kill her. Instead there were about seven police cars and the area was swarming with cops.

Root talked her way under the police tape and headed inside the building that had once been home to Austin Devine and his crew. Her intention had been to get a hold of Austin, find out what he knew about this ghost, but she quickly realised that wasn’t going to be possible when she entered an apartment filled with cops and forensic teams and saw Devine’s dead body. It was the tattoos up and down his arms that she recognised. His face was distorted due to the bullet that had torn through it and she realised with a sinking feeling that this was her last lead and it was gone like a whispering voice in the wind.

This ghost cleaned up well after himself.

“I might have known you’d have something to do with this,” said a voice in her ear.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Lionel,” said Root, glancing at the detective innocently over her shoulder.

“Sure you don’t,” Fusco hissed, shoving a picture that had obviously been taken from a security camera under her nose. Root glanced at it briefly; saw her and Daizo in the alleyway last night.

“You want to tell me what you and Nerd Number Three were doing?”

Root smirked at him. “And where would the fun in that be?” she asked playfully.

Fusco glared at her. “Look, Coco Puffs, I could arrest you right here and now.”

Root snorted, doubting that he would considering none of the other police officers had batted an eyelid at her presence. Clearly Fusco hadn’t shown her picture to anyone else and had made sure no one ever would see it. John had him well trained in covering up their tracks, it would seem.

“You at least got a lead on who did this?” Fusco asked.

“Nope,” said Root.

Fusco looked at her carefully. “Did _you_ do this?”

“Would I have come back here if I had?” Root simpered.

“I don’t know, Crazy Eyes, you tell me,” Fusco snapped and he looked at her a little cautiously, as if she _had_ killed Austin Devine. She pretended that she wasn’t hurt by it, but then again, when she thought about it, she probably would have killed Austin after she had interrogated him for information. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that and knew that if the Machine was still talking, She wouldn’t have been pleased. But the Machine wasn’t talking and Root found she didn’t care all that much about some dead lowlife drug dealer.

“You’re not seriously whining about a couple of dead drug dealers, are you, Lionel?” Root asked.

“I’m whining about the paperwork,” Fusco complained. “And the fact that I have to clean up your mess.”

Root smirked at him and watched as his nostrils flared in annoyance.

“Just get out of here before I change my mind,” Fusco snapped. Root thought about staying a while longer and messing with him for a bit but then decided it probably wouldn’t be worth listening to him whine all afternoon, so she slipped out of the crime scene without anyone noticing her and headed back to the safe house.

Root decided to walk back and by the time she got there, it was late in the afternoon. She wasn’t entirely surprised to find Daizo and Gen exactly where she had left them, the only signs that they had moved at all were the empty plates of food sitting on the floor by their feet. Root watched them play for a bit, but quickly got bored and decided it was time to take Gen home. Besides, she needed some fresh clothes.

“Come on, kiddo,” said Root, tugging on Gen’s hair slightly to get her attention, “time to go.” It distracted Gen long enough for her to lose the game and she let out at annoyed whine as Daizo grinned at her smugly.

“Three out of five?” she begged. “Please?” she added to Root.

Root rolled her eyes. “Gen, you’ve been playing all day.”

“Just one more game, I promise,” said Gen and flashed Root her trade mark puppy dog look. Root didn’t fall for it and she said something quickly to Daizo in Japanese.

“Fine, you can play one more game,” said Root.

Gen narrowed her eyes. “Did you just tell him to let me win?”

“You speak Japanese now?” Root said, a little startled.

“No,” said Gen haughtily, “I’m just not stupid.”

Root let out an exaggerated sigh. “Just hurry up.”

They started up a new game and Root sat on one of the free chairs, only half watching, bored out of her mind.

“You better not let me win,” Gen said, pointing an accusing finger in Daizo’s face, but he just shrugged at her innocently and proceeded to do the exact opposite. Gen tried to go for five out of seven but eventually relinquished defeat at Root’s annoyed pointed look and she managed to shimmy the kid out of the door without further protest.

They walked in silence for a few blocks, the late summer breeze making them both shiver slightly, and Root could tell by the sidelong looks Gen kept sending her way that Gen wanted to ask her something.

“You’re not staying tonight, are you?” Gen asked eventually.

Root bit her lip and didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say and it had taken her until now to realise that whatever problems her and Shaw were having, it wasn't just them who were affected. It was a responsibility that terrified her, that Gen relied on them for so much. It was a responsibility that Root had never asked for, and had certainly never thought she would ever have wanted. But the thought of what it was like before, when it was just her and Shaw and the Machine, and even before then, when it was just _her,_ well… that thought left her feeling cold and empty inside.

"Grown-ups are so stupid," Gen complained after a while.

"Gee thanks, kid," Root said with a small smile.

"But you are," Gen said. “You know what you guys were arguing over was dumb, right?” Gen’s eyes widened suddenly. “Not that I know what it was about because I totally wasn’t spying,” Gen lied smoothly and Root felt a little proud.

“Gen,” Root warned, derailing Gen’s line of questioning with a sharp look and they continued on in silence for about another five minutes.

“She missed you this morning, you know,” Gen said quietly.

Root rolled her eyes. “I’ve barely been gone a day.”

“So?” said Gen haughtily.

“Gen,” said Root through a breath of air and stopped walking so that she could look at her properly. “It’s not that simple.”

“It’s not that complicated either,” Gen countered. Then she smiled widely as if she had just realised something. “You haven’t figured her out yet, have you?”

“What?” said Root, her brow creasing in confusion. But Gen just continued to grin at her and then sauntered up the street, proud of herself, and Root had no idea what to make of it.

Root made to follow her but then she froze on the spot when she heard static in her ear.

It was the Machine, it had to be.

Root stood and listened as Gen continued up the street and the static got louder and louder until it was screeching in her ear so much that Root clutched a hand over her ear.

It was a warning. She was sure of it. But Root didn’t know what for, knew it couldn’t be for herself because she had been in too many life threatening situations lately and the Machine had never once warned her like this.

And she knew then, as fear gripped her like a cold darkness and clenched around her heart, she knew what the Machine was warning her about.

Root looked up but Gen had already turned the corner, and she could hear the roar of an engine, the squealing of tires on tarmac as a car braked suddenly to a halt, heard Gen screaming her name for help.

Root ran but it was like walking through quick sand and she rounded the corner, her breathing erratic, sending a sharp stabbing pain through her heart that left Root clutching at her chest helplessly.

She caught a glimpse of strong arms gripping Gen around the waist and bundling her into the back of a van, saw the terrified look in Gen’s eyes as she continued to call out Root’s name and all Root could do was stare helpless and let it happen.

The van door slammed shut and it was like the library all over again. Gen’s face suddenly superimposed over Hanna’s and Sam could do nothing but watch and wonder for the rest of her life why she hadn’t done anything to stop it.

Her heart was fighting a battle it couldn’t win, beating so fast she thought it was going to burst out of her, her entire body strained as pain so sharp and the worst she had ever experienced shot through her chest like a well-aimed bullet. Root slumped to the ground and fumbled in her pocket for the bottle of pills, her hands trembling so violently that half of them ended up on the ground before she could get them to her mouth. But she forced herself to swallow them down, forced herself to breath in and out, in and out… willed the pain away until it was nothing more than a dull throb… in and out… tried not to picture terrified blue eyes staring at her helplessly…in and out…in and out…

Eventually, after a lifetime, she could breathe normally again and it no longer felt like her entire body was going to give up in defeat.

But she didn’t move, she couldn’t. Couldn’t think what to do or where to go or how to even go about getting up if she wanted to.

Her phone rang, like a distant echo, drilling its way into her until she couldn’t ignore it, until some baser instinct told her to answer it, said _this is important answer it now_ and she wondered oddly if it was the Machine, if She had found a new way to get inside her head and speak to her directly.

Root answered the phone, her hands still shaking badly and she found she couldn’t speak.

“I told you to back off.”

The voice was familiar and cold and everything Root hated about the world. So faint and shallow, so much like the ghost it belonged to.

“D-don’t,” Root choked out, closing her eyes as if she could shut everything out and make it go away. _Please don’t hurt her._

She expected him to laugh, expected him to refuse, but all she got was a dial tone as he hung up on her.


	7. Chapter 7

Root didn't know how long she sat there. The entire world could have ended and she wouldn't have noticed; her mind too busy playing the same image over and over again… Gen's terrified face.

And all Root could think was _this is all my fault._

It wasn't until her heart started beating properly again, regularly and without making her feel like someone was stabbing her in the chest, that she realised that she had to do something. But she didn't know what.

Her instincts screamed at her then. _Go to the library, find Shaw. Shaw will know what to do._

Root struggled to her feet and for one awful moment she thought she was going to pass out, that her heart was about to suddenly give up and that would be it. Game over.

But it didn't. She was fine and she made herself move in the direction of the library, stumbling along the sidewalk, bumping into passers-by. But she didn't care because all she could think about was that she had to find Shaw because Shaw would know what to do.

Somehow she made it, made it inside the library with its books and its wonders, looking so innocent and wise. But Root knew it wasn’t, knew that a darkness lived in the heart of it, just like in them all.

Just like in _her_.

_I told you to back off..._

How could she have been so stupid, so _arrogant_ , to think that there wouldn't be consequences, to think that she could play the hero without anyone getting hurt. To think that she could have some semblance of a normal life without it blowing up in her face.

Because that's what happened when she allowed people to get close to her - she destroyed them. She had made a career out of it and perhaps she was a fool for thinking she had moved beyond that, that she was one of the good guys now. But she was never good, was she? Even when she was still Sam she had never been good, her mother always told her so. Everyone always told her so. Sam Groves, the weird kid from the edge of town who everyone knew would never amount to anything. But she showed them, didn't she? She proved them all wrong and become something none of them had ever expected.

She became Root.

She became a killer and she never once looked back on her life and thought _I could have done something different. I could have made better choices._

Not until the Machine showed her how.

Not until She showed her what she had done to Cyrus Wells. Not until She made her care.

And now she did care.

And she didn't like it. Didn't like the way it tore out her heart and stomped all over it or the way it made her happy only for it to be snatched away right from under her.

She _was_ a fool. A good for nothing fool – and didn't _that_ just sound like something her mother would have said? She should have known better.

The library was quiet and dark, just like all those nights she had been kept here, locked up in a cage with nothing but books for company, no access to the Machine and a mission left unfulfilled. She had hated that cage. She still did, and every time she walked in here it was an unpleasant reminder of everything that was wrong in the world. Because the library was where she had lost Hanna, but it was also where she had lost the Machine. Trapped and alone in a cage without her God for guidance.

And wasn't it just funny how she was right back to that all over again. No Machine to tell her what to do, and this time... this time she had lost Gen.

"Root?"

It was Shaw. Her voice had a tinge of worry to it and Root wondered how she must look to have that much raw concern sent her way. She didn't like it. Didn’t want or deserve it.

"Root, what's wrong?" Shaw asked.

Root looked away, unable to speak, unable to bear the concern any longer. When she looked past Shaw, she saw Reese with a similar look and she knew then that she must look awful.

But his attention quickly diverted to a crash from further within the library; Finch rushing towards them, sending chairs flying in his rush. Reese stepped forwards and put a strong hand on his arm to keep him steady.

"Finch, slow down," said Reese.

"I found out who our new number is,” said Finch breathlessly and held out a picture for Reese to look at. Reese took it from his hand, staring at it grimly and Root didn’t have to ask, she knew who’s number it was.

“What?” said Shaw, staring between Finch and Reese. “What is it?”

Reese handed her the photograph and if Root thought Shaw looked concerned before, it was nothing compared to how alarmed she looked now.

“Gen,” Shaw breathed. “Why would she be our number?”

“I don’t know,” said Harold quietly. “But I think Miss Groves might.”

They all turned simultaneously to look at her then; it would have almost been comical if the situation hadn’t been so grave. But Root only had eyes for Shaw and she watched as the concern on the other woman’s face hardened, watched the pieces fall in to place, watched as Shaw realised what Root had done.

Shaw came at her so fast that Root barely saw it, Shaw’s fist grabbing the edges of Root’s jacket as she slammed her up against a bookcase.

“What did you do?” Shaw hissed. Her eyes were hard and cold as she pressed into Root. And Root couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but watch as her world slowly spun apart.

“This has something to do with that ghost?” said Harold. “The 911 caller?”

“Yes,” Root whispered, her eyes never leaving Shaw’s. “He took her.”

“Because of you?” Shaw asked, her voice low and deadly and all Root could do was nod.

The look Shaw gave her then was lethal, so full of rage and barely supressed violence. Root had seen that look on her face once before, right before Shaw’s fist slammed into her face. But Shaw didn’t hit her and perhaps what she said next was worse, the words cutting into Root like a knife.

“If anything happens to her…” said Shaw, her voice clipped and tight, so quiet. These words were meant for Root’s ears and hers alone. “I will _never_ forgive you.”

“Shaw-”

“Get out.”

Shaw let go of her then and Root thought her legs were going to give out from under her, but somehow she managed to stay upright, one hand gripping the bookshelf behind her so tightly her nails hurt.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t be so hasty,” said Harold reasonably, “the Machine –”

“The Machine’s not talking to her anymore, Finch,” said Shaw harshly. “Is it?”

But Root didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say because Shaw was right. The Machine had stopped talking to her. She gave Root the odd morsel of information here and there, but for the most part, there was nothing but silence.

Reese stepped between them both then, and he looked at Shaw as if he were afraid, not _of_ her, but of what she _might_ do.

“I think you should go,” he said quietly to Root.

Root looked at Shaw, but she determinedly avoided Root’s eyes and tightened her grip on the picture of Gen. Even Harold avoided looking at her and Root quickly realised she wasn’t wanted here, that if she stayed she would only make things worse.

She wondered if Harold was thinking about locking her up in the cage again, if he was cursing himself for not doing it sooner. And part of her wished he had. It was no more than she deserved.

Root left but she didn’t know where she was going, all she knew was that she had to get out of the library, get some air, _breathe._

When she stepped outside it was dark and cold and Root’s eyes scanned upwards, looking for the nearest security camera. She found one on the building opposite, red light blinking as it pointed directly at her and she knew the Machine was watching, but still there was nothing to confirm it in her ear.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” Root cried. _Please,_ she thought, _please just talk to me._

“Root?”

For one hope filled moment, Root almost believed it was the Machine. But it wasn't. It was Daniel, standing behind her with Daizo by his side.

"Finch called us in," Daniel explained. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

Root ignored his questions and looked at them, her boys, still so faithful and loyal, willing to do anything she said. She wondered how long it would take for her to break them too.

"I need you to do something," Root said, leading them both away from the library.

*

Shaw didn’t like this, this waiting around, doing _nothing_. And she hated the way Finch and Reese kept darting concerned looks her way.

“It’s been three hours, Finch,” Shaw snapped when she caught him looking at her again.

“I know,” said Finch, “but going out and searching the streets would be a waste of time.”

“And sitting around here isn’t?” Shaw asked.

Finch didn’t answer her and she knew she was right. But they didn’t exactly have a lot of options right now.

“Perhaps if you hadn’t sent Miss Groves away so soon, we would have more of a lead,” said Finch quietly, but she heard the disapproving snap to his tone anyway and she chose to ignore it. He was right though, maybe she had been a little hasty, but Shaw knew that if Root had stayed in her line of sight any longer, she would have done something stupid.

“How long have you known, Finch?” Shaw asked, her voice tight and clipped. He paused with whatever he was doing on his computer and glanced up at her. Shaw tried to control her temper, she really did, but all she could think about was how Gen was out there somewhere, lost and alone, and she felt her anger spike when Finch carefully avoided her eyes.

“I didn’t,” he began. “I didn’t know how much trouble she was in.”

“Bullshit,” Shaw snapped and Harold flinched. “You knew exactly what she was getting into and you didn’t care.”

“That’s not true,” said Finch, his face pinching as if he were in pain. “I care about what happens to Gen.”

“But you don’t care what happens to Root,” Shaw countered and knew it was true when Harold refused to answer her.

Shaw turned away from him and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Do you really believe that she has changed?” Finch said quietly. “That she isn’t the person she used to be?”

_I thought I did,_ Shaw thought. “Hasn’t she proved herself to you enough times, Harold? Not everything is black and white.”

“No,” Finch agreed, “it’s not. But sometimes I think it’s easier for you to ignore what she is.”

_No_ , Shaw thought, _I relish in it._

But she didn’t say anything to Harold, knew he would never understand and she was relieved when Reese reappeared, putting an end to their conversation.

“Fusco dropped off the security tapes,” he said, holding up a disk. Finch took it from him and quickly inserted it into his computer.

“Did Fusco have anything else?” Shaw asked.

Reese shook his head and Shaw tried not to let it get to her, the fact that they were searching for a ghost that knew how to blend in, knew how to disappear without a trace.

Harold started up the video and the three of them watched carefully. Harold fast forwarded it to the time Gen was taken and played the video at normal speed when they spotted Root and Gen walking down the sidewalk.

There was no audio and Shaw wondered what they were discussing, wondered why Gen looked so pleased with herself and why Root just looked confused. But then she stopped wondering as the camera switched angles and they watched as a van pulled up alongside Gen and two men wearing ski masks jumped out, one of them grabbing Gen around the waist.

“They’re pros,” Reese commented, watching the way they skilfully snatched Gen off the street and drove away.

Shaw nodded absently in agreement but her attention had moved off from what was happening to Gen to what was happening to Root and any residual anger that she was feeling towards her quickly dissipated as she watched Root slide to the ground, hand clutching at her chest.

Shaw could feel eyes on her and she glanced up to find both Reese and Finch watching her carefully.

“She doesn’t look good,” Finch commented.

“Something you want to share with us, Shaw?” Reese asked, his eyes darting to the image of Root questioningly.

Shaw didn’t answer him and watched the monitor as Root struggled to swallow a handful of pills. Then Shaw looked away.

“What about the van?” Shaw asked tightly.

“Fusco says they found it abandoned,” said Reese. “No prints. Looks like it had been stolen.”

“So we’ve got nothing then?” Shaw snapped, but Reese didn’t fall for her played up anger. But he didn’t shoot her anymore concerned looks either and for that she was grateful.

“We need to find Root,” Reese said cautiously, as if he were afraid of how she might react to his suggestion.

But Shaw agreed with him and she wondered where Root would have gone. If she would have returned to the safe house and her little band of nerds or if she had went home. _Or if she has gone for good_ , a little voice nagged in her head but Shaw ignored it. She didn’t want to think about the possibility of that.

Her phone rang then, almost as if Root knew what they had been discussing, and a few days ago, Shaw would have believed that very thing, that the Machine had informed Root that they wanted to talk to her. But now the Machine wasn’t talking to any of them, not properly and Shaw found she didn’t care all that much right now about what that might mean.

Shaw answered her phone. “Root, where are you?”

“I’m going to fix this, Shaw,” Root said. She sounded tired Shaw thought, like she was holding back tears, trying her best to put on a brave face and Shaw wondered who it was for, if she was doing it for her own benefit or for Shaw’s.

“We watched the security tapes, Root,” said Shaw, trying to clip back the worry and the anger from her voice. “You are not okay.”

“I’m going to get her back, I promise.”

“Root, wait,” said Shaw, wanting to say something, wanting to tell her how she didn’t blame her, that it wasn’t her fault. But Root had already hung up and Shaw felt the veil of worry whip at her once again, leaving her flailing and wondering how she was even still standing.

Shaw stared at the phone a moment before looking up to find both Finch and Reese looking at her questioningly. “She’s going after Gen on her own.”

“She knows where Gen is?” Finch asked, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“How?” asked Reese.

Shaw shrugged. “I don’t know, but I think I know someone who might.”

*

The safe house was dark and quiet when Shaw and Reese got there, but Shaw opened the door with so much force it swung back on its hinges and slammed into the wall, loud enough to wake someone three floors up. Both Daniel and Daizo were sitting at the dining table and both of them jumped when Shaw made her entrance.

“Where’s Root?” Shaw asked.

Daniel and Daizo both glanced at each other.

“Uh…” said Daniel, “she told us not to tell you.”

Shaw cursed under her breath, because seriously, hadn’t Root learned _anything_ in the last five hours?

“Daniel,” said Shaw carefully, “you know I have a gun, right?”

Daniel swallowed thickly.

“You should tell her,” said Daizo. He was looking at his feet and he looked so young to Shaw then that she almost forgot all of the things he must have seen, must have done, during all the time he had known Root.

“Okay,” said Daniel, grabbing his laptop. “Root bugged Gen’s watch.”

“Watch?” said Reese blankly.

“Yeah, you know, the one with video and audio recording?” said Daniel.

Shaw nodded absently and tried not to think about how she had almost _not_ given Gen that stupid watch back this morning.

Daniel started to type away and Shaw tried not to fidget impatiently or snap at him to hurry up. Instead, she said, “You two knew about this ghost?” She tried to sound calm, but she suspected her voice came out with more bite than she had intended.

Daniel paused what he was doing and looked up at her. “I knew she was investigating something, but I didn’t know what.” Shaw didn’t know why, but she believed him.

“He almost killed Root,” Daizo said quietly to his feet and Daniel looked at him sharply. “Last night,” Daizo clarified. “We almost both died.”

“What?” said Daniel. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“Root said –” Daizo began.

“Root said?” Shaw snapped. “You guys always do what Root says?”

But neither Daizo or Daniel answered her and Shaw remembered last night, remembered coming home and starting an argument and now that she knew it was only a few hours after Root had almost gotten herself killed, she just felt angry.

“Okay, I’ve got it,” said Daniel and turned his laptop around for Shaw and Reese to look at. It was a map of the city and Daniel had narrowed it down to a location.

“This is where Gen is?” Shaw asked.

“It’s where Gen’s watch is,” Daniel clarified.

“Okay, let’s go,” Shaw said to Reese and he nodded. “You’re coming to,” she said, pointing at Daizo. “You’re going to tell me what the hell happened last night.” She didn’t give him room for argument and grabbed his arm to drag him out of the apartment.

*

They arrived at the warehouse Daniel had directed them to just as Daizo finished telling them both what had happened the night before and everything else he knew about this ghost. Shaw had felt her temper increase the more Daizo had talked, felt it weigh her down and thought it was better than the worry that seemed to consume her whenever she thought about how stupid Root had been.

Reese rolled the car to a stop outside of the warehouse and parked next to a flashy BMW.

“Isn’t that one of Finch’s?” Reese asked.

Shaw nodded and knew that Root was here. They heard gunfire then, coming somewhere from inside the warehouse and both she and Reese took their guns out.

“Stay here,” she said to Daizo. He made to protest but she glared at him until he got back in the car and then she followed Reese inside.

“Could do with some eyes,” Reese muttered as he cleared the entrance.

Shaw grunted in agreement, but it was a little late for some recon now. “We should split it up,” Shaw suggested. Reese looked at her like he didn’t like the idea. She didn’t like it either, but she also didn’t like the fact that both Gen and Root were somewhere in here amongst all the gunfire.

Eventually, Reese nodded and they split up at the next junction. Shaw followed the gunfire, like a shark’s instincts hone in on a drop of blood in the ocean, and as it got louder her heart pumped faster in what she thought must be anticipation.

Shaw rounded the next corner and found the source of the gunfire. Root was wielding two guns, firing rapidly. She ducked for cover behind a crate and spotted Shaw as she was reloading. Shaw didn’t like the look in her eyes then, a mixture of fear and panic, like Root was afraid of her.

“Get Gen,” said Root coming out from behind her cover to start firing again, “she’s in there. I’ll cover you.”

Shaw glanced in the direction Root indicated and hesitated for a moment. Root was badly outnumbered, more hostiles appearing than she could drop them. But Root made the decision easy for her.

“ _Go!_ ” she yelled. Shaw moved then, glancing briefly at Root before ducking low and rushing to the room where Gen supposedly was. She fired off a few rounds in the direction of the bad guys, but didn’t know if she had hit any of them. She hoped she had, she hoped she had helped Root out a little bit.

The room was unlocked and Shaw found Gen tied to a pipe in the corner, her eyes blindfolded. Shaw tucked the gun in her waistband and rushed towards her. Gen flinched when Shaw brushed against her arm to cut the zip ties around her wrist.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” said Shaw, “it’s me.”

“Shaw?” said Gen weakly.

Shaw cut her loose and removed the blindfold. “You okay? Did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” Gen said firmly. She looked okay, Shaw thought, apart from the bruise blooming on her left cheek, but Shaw didn’t have time to check her over as the gunfire continued loudly next door.

Gen glanced at the doorway and Shaw could see the glint of fear in her eyes.

“Hey,” said Shaw, taking her by the wrist. “It’s okay. I’m going to get you out of here.”

Gen nodded bravely and Shaw was a little startled when she slipped her hand downwards to take Shaw’s hand. Shaw squeezed it tightly and led her out, making sure Gen stayed behind her at all times.

Shaw peered through the door. Reese had joined the fight with Root, but they were still outnumbered. Reese fired off three more rounds and turned towards her.

“You’re clear, go,” he said.

Shaw nodded and tightened her grip on Gen, shielding her with her body as she led her out of the warehouse. They didn’t meet any resistance; all the bad guys obviously focused on the distraction that Root and Reese were providing.

Daizo leapt out of the car as soon as he saw them exit the warehouse.

“Take her back to the safe house,” said Shaw.

Daizo nodded and put a hand on Gen’s shoulder.

“But –” Gen started to protest.

“Go with Daizo,” Shaw said forcefully, making sure Gen knew it wasn’t up for discussion. Gen eventually relented and hopped into the passenger seat. Shaw watched them drive off, felt the tightly coiled panic, which had encircled itself within her insides ever since she had found out Gen had gone missing, loosen itself a little. But then Reese called her through the earpiece and it tightened its grip on her once again, left her feeling like she couldn’t breathe properly.

“Shaw,” said Reese, “get back in here. Root’s been hit.”

Shaw didn’t remember going back into the warehouse, didn’t remember the path she took or the bad guys she shot at. All she was thinking about was Root, her mind immediately thinking the worst. And she remembered the desert, remembered sitting on the ground, bleeding to death, the feel of Root’s hands keeping her grounded, like a tether to the living world, so fragile and thin, about to snap and let Shaw go forever.

She wondered just how badly Root had been hit, if she was dying. If their roles were going to be reversed and this time it would be Shaw struggling desperately to keep Root alive. She wondered if she would fail and _that_ thought left Shaw feeling cold inside.

Shaw rounded the corner to where she had last seen Root and Reese. Reese was still on his feet, firing rapidly in the opposite direction. Root was on the ground beside him, leaning heavily against the wall, her hands gripping at the gunshot wound in her left thigh. Shaw rushed over to her and Root cried out in pain when Shaw put more pressure over the wound.

“It’s not so bad,” Shaw said, examining the wound carefully. “Give me your belt,” she said to Reese, holding a hand out to him. Reese took it off wordlessly with one hand and tossed it to her, never taking his eyes off the hostiles he was shooting at.

“Are you lying?” Root asked. Her breath hitched in pain as Shaw tightened the belt around her leg above the wound.

“It didn’t hit the artery,” Shaw said, but she still didn’t like how much blood there was.

“Shaw,” said Root and Shaw looked up at her then, looked at Root’s pale and sweating face, saw the pain and regret. “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed.

“It’s okay,” said Shaw. “Don’t think about that now.”

“Gen?” asked Root.

“She’s fine,” said Shaw. “She’s with Daizo. She’s safe.”

Root seemed to relax a little at that but Shaw could tell she was panicking. Shaw checked her pulse and didn’t like how fast it was, didn’t like to think about how much strain it was putting on her heart.

“Root, you need to calm down,” said Shaw steadily. “I need you to breathe.”

Root met her eyes and nodded but she struggled to control herself, her breathing and the tears that were still flowing freely down her cheeks.

Reese moved towards them and knelt down beside Root. “I think that’s the last of them.”

Shaw nodded and watched as Reese lifted Root easily in his arms. Root cried out and gripped Reese’s shoulder tightly through the pain. Shaw forced herself to look away and led them out of the warehouse, her gun held out steadily in front of her in case Reese was wrong and there _was_ more of them.

They made it outside and to Finch’s BMW. Reese put Root in the backseat and Shaw got in beside her, put her hands tightly on the wound to stop the bleeding as Reese drove them out of there.

“Did you find your ghost?” Shaw asked to distract Root more than anything, and maybe to distract herself a little as well.

Root shook her head. “He doesn’t like to get his hands dirty. He was probably never here.”

Shaw wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but didn’t have time to think about it.

“She says I’m not going to make it,” Root said bleakly and Shaw gritted her teeth, annoyed that the Machine had been quiet for so long only to chip in Her unwanted opinion now.

“Don’t be stupid,” said Shaw, “you’re going to be fine. Which one of us has the medical degree?”

“Shaw,” said Root, looking at her sadly. “It’s okay.”

Shaw shook her head. And she knew what the Machine was worried about. The leg wound was nothing, it was the strain on Root’s heart after it had been weakened already that night that had them both worried.

“I need to tell you something,” said Root.

Shaw felt her insides clench and she glanced up at Root warily. “Shut up, you’re going to be fine.”

“Please,” Root sobbed. “I need you to know.”

“Don’t,” Shaw snapped. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t think she could stand it, she didn’t think it would sit well inside of her. She thought it would eat away at her until there was nothing left and she didn’t want to hear it because that wasn’t what she had signed up for.

But Root ignored her protests and said the three words that Shaw didn’t want to hear.

Shaw said nothing and glanced at Reese in the rear view mirror. When she turned back, Root was unconscious. Shaw checked her pulse and didn’t like what she felt there.

“Reese,” Shaw said faintly.

“We’re almost there,” said Reese.

“She’s going into cardiac arrest,” Shaw informed him.

“We’re almost there,” he repeated and braked the car to a sudden halt. He climbed out leaving the engine running and opened the back door, pulling Root into his arms.

“Shaw,” he snapped when Shaw didn’t move, just stared at the blood stain left behind on the backseat. Shaw blinked at him and then clambered out, following him inside.

Shaw tapped on her earpiece. “Daniel, I need you to prep two litres of o-neg.”

“Why?” said Daniel, sounding a little startled. “What happened?”

“Just do it,” Shaw snapped.

When they made it upstairs, Reese took Root straight to the little room they had been using on and off as a makeshift infirmary. It was where they had been storing the medical equipment and Daniel was already in there, a unit of blood in each hand. He paled slightly when his eyes landed on Root, but then he got moving, hanging the bags up and prepping an IV line as Reese lay Root gently on the bed.

“Shaw?”

Shaw glanced behind her and saw Gen staring up at her, looking so small and vulnerable. Her eyes darted to Root, terrified and Shaw knew she should probably say something to reassure her, but she didn’t know what. She couldn’t even reassure herself.

“Stay here,” said Shaw and was grateful for the way Daizo put his arm around Gen and held her close.

“Defibrillators,” Shaw snapped as soon as walked into the room. But Reese was already one step ahead of her and he handed them to her seamlessly as soon as she was close enough and then he started chest compressions whilst Shaw waited for them to charge.

“Is she…” Daniel said weakly, he was still holding the IV line and Shaw realised he didn’t know what to do with it. Shaw cursed, wondering why she had never sat them all down and given them all basic medical training.

“Shut up,” said Shaw, because she didn’t want to hear Daniel’s fears. Didn’t want them mingled with her own. She had to concentrate and she forced herself to look past Root, to pretend she was just any other patient. But she couldn’t. She could only see Root and Shaw was left with nothing but the echo of Root’s last words in her head.

Shaw brought the paddles down on Root’s chest and tried not to look at the way Root’s entire body convulsed, tried not to think about the way the monitor showed nothing but a flatline. Shaw shocked her again and a third time and still there was nothing.

“Shaw,” said Reese slowly.

“Shut up,” Shaw snapped and brought the paddles down again. This time the monitor beeped steadily and the line began to spike, Shaw watched it carefully and waited, half expecting Root to go into asystole again. But she didn’t and her heart rate seemed to normalise.

Shaw handed the paddles to Reese and checked Root’s pulse, her fingers lingering on Root’s neck longer than necessary. Then she moved round and took the IV line from Daniel’s hands and inserted the needle smoothly into Root’s vein, watched as the blood flowed freely into her arm.

“I’m going to need a suture kit,” she told Daniel and when she glanced up at him she thought he was going to be sick. “Daniel?”

“I’m fine,” said Daniel hurriedly and got moving. “I’m okay.”

Shaw removed the bullet and stitched Root up. Then she watched Root’s still and lifeless form, her shallow and erratic breathing, and wondered if it would be enough.

Gen rushed towards her as soon as Shaw stepped into the other room. Finch had arrived at some point when she was fixing Root up and she stared at his pale and shaken form wordlessly and thought how easy it would be to blame him. But she didn’t and she tried not to feel anything. It was easy, always so easy.

“Is Root going to be okay?” Gen asked cautiously, staring up at her with bright and shining eyes. “It’s okay, you can lie to me if you want,” Gen said quietly when Shaw said nothing.

“Yeah, kid,” said Shaw distantly, still staring at Finch. He looked away from her and down at his feet and she wondered if he felt as guilty as she did. “She’s going to be okay,” she said and didn’t know if she was lying or not.


	8. Chapter 8

Shaw liked the beeping of the heart monitor. She found the sound reassuring, its steady rhythm letting her know that Root’s heart was still beating, that Root was still breathing, that she was _alive._

And it meant Shaw didn’t have to look at her.

Which made things easier in a way, and Shaw sat with her head in her hands, massaging her temples to fight off the headache that was blooming from lack of sleep. She hadn’t slept since this all started… two? Three days ago? She couldn’t remember. She didn’t care. She had barely moved from the chair by Root’s bedside since they had brought her in here. She told herself it was because she was the only one around here with any medical training, that if Root went into cardiac arrest again she had to be here. Just in case.

Shaw tried not to think about the other reasons. She tried not to think about anything at all.

But she wasn’t having very much luck with that.

And the sound of Root’s last words to her kept going round and round inside her head until Shaw thought they would consume her, leaving her burning from the inside out.

Shaw dug her fingers a little deeper into the side of her head, relished in the pain it brought and hoped it would bruise, hoped it would leave a mark, leave her with something tangible and real. Something that she could live with.

Because she couldn’t live with this. Not any of it.

She couldn’t live with the knowledge that if she hadn’t thrown Root out of the library then this wouldn’t have happened, that if she had just waited, if she had just _listened_ , then Root wouldn’t have gone off on her own.

And she couldn’t live with the knowledge of what Root had said to her. Couldn’t live with the thought that it might be the _last_ thing Root ever said to her.

Because what was she supposed to do with that if it was?

“Shaw?”

Shaw looked up to find Gen watching her carefully, a plate of food in her hands.

“Hey, kid,” said Shaw quietly, her voice like a rustle in the wind.

“I brought you a sandwich,” said Gen and Shaw noticed the way her eyes kept darting towards Root, the way they had developed a glistening sheen and Shaw knew she was trying her best to hold it together.

“I’m not hungry,” said Shaw, looking away and down at her feet.

“John says you should eat something,” Gen continued softly. Shaw closed her eyes, not entirely surprised that Reese would use the kid to get her to eat. It still felt like a low blow though.

“I’m not hungry,” Shaw repeated, a little more forcefully.

“But you’re always hungry,” Gen pointed out and clutched the plate a little more tightly, like she had just realised what she had said was stupid and she was afraid about how Shaw might react.

Shaw bit her lip, wondering where the snappy comeback was that was usually so quick to leave her mouth. But there was nothing and she just stared at Gen for a moment, letting her features soften slightly.

“Is it because you’re sad?” Gen asked tentatively.

“I don’t do sad, kid,” said Shaw and glanced to the side, realised it was a mistake when she saw Root’s pale and shallow features and looked away.

“I think you kind of do, Shaw,” Gen said, looking at Root sadly herself. “Is she going to wake up?”

Shaw didn’t answer her, she didn’t have one, and she took the plate from Gen instead, hoping that would somehow make her change the subject. Shaw still didn’t eat the food though, just stared at it for a moment before resting the plate on her lap.

Someone dropped something in the room next door and there was a loud clatter as it hit the floor, the noise echoing around the entire apartment. Gen jumped slightly, her eyes going wide, and she inched a little closer to Root’s bedside in response.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” said Shaw quietly, afraid of spooking her further.

“I know,” said Gen bravely, but she still glanced fearfully behind her, still looked as if she were about to jump out of her skin at the slightest sound.

“Hey,” said Shaw gently, touching her fingertips against Gen’s wrist slightly to get her attention. Gen flinched at the contact and Shaw quickly realised that although she was _physically_ fine, she wasn’t doing so great otherwise. Shaw let her hand drop and she watched Gen carefully. “You sleeping much?” Shaw asked.

Gen shook her head. “Daizo’s room smells weird.”

Shaw smiled slightly and knew that wasn’t the reason.

“When can we go home?” Gen asked.

Shaw didn’t answer her and her eyes wandered to Root.

“It’s okay,” said Gen quietly. “I don’t want to leave her either.”

Shaw sucked in a breath, listened to the heart monitor for a moment and then said, “Come on, let’s go see what the guys are doing.”

She stood up, holding the plate it one hand, letting the other hover over Gen’s shoulder slightly. Gen hesitated a moment, glancing at Root and Shaw had to resist the urge to look at her too.

“Come on,” said Shaw, nudging Gen slightly, “she’ll be fine.”

Gen nodded and let Shaw lead her out of the room and Shaw had to fight the need to look back.

The guys were gathered around the dining table; Daniel and Finch both typing away on laptops and Shaw knew they were still trying to track down this ghost. She also knew they weren’t having much luck, not with the way Reese so adamantly kept everyone locked up in the safe house like there was an air raid going on outside and this was the safest place in the world, their little bunker of safety.

Reese glanced at her when she entered, frowned at the still full plate in her hand. Shaw took a bite of the sandwich pointedly before he could say anything, but it tasted like rubber in her mouth and she struggled to swallow it down and ended up dumping the plate on the table, the food uneaten, with a glare, daring him to say something. But Reese didn’t say anything and she almost wished that he would. At least his nagging and fussing would give her something to focus on.

Gen disappeared from her side to go help Daizo untangle some wires and Shaw watched her carefully. She had been glued to his side ever since they had come back from the warehouse, but Daizo didn’t seem to mind. He seemed to like it actually.

“We got anything?” Shaw asked, dragging her eyes away from Gen to look at Daniel and Finch over the top of their computer screens and they both glanced at each other briefly.

“No,” said Finch gently, “not yet.”

Shaw wanted to snap at him that it wasn’t good enough, that they needed to do _something_. But she didn’t. She said nothing and let herself feel nothing too.

“Hey,” said Gen suddenly climbing to her feet. “I know him.”

“Who?” said Finch, frowning at her.

“Him,” said Gen taking one of the photographs off the table. It was from the pile of pictures they had taken during the surveillance of Greer’s place and Shaw knew without a doubt whose photograph Gen had just picked up.

Finch took the picture from her and stared at it for a moment. “Gen, where did you see this man?”

“At the warehouse,” said Gen uneasily. “I only saw him for a second, when the blindfold slipped as they were bringing me in, but it was him.”

“It’s okay, kiddo,” said Shaw, “we believe you.”

“Greer and our ghost are working together?” said Reese when Gen went over to help Daizo again.

“That can’t be good,” said Finch and he leaned back heavily in his chair.

“Daniel,” said Shaw deliberately, “check Greer’s laptop again.”

Daniel opened his mouth to protest, probably to tell her it was a waste of time, but he quickly clamped it shut again at Shaw’s look. And she wondered what she did look like, because all she could think about, all she could wonder, was who exactly put the kidnap order out on Gen? This ghost because of Root? Or Greer because of _her?_

Shaw glanced in the direction of Root’s room again and all she could think about was how she had thrown her out of the library, how she had been so quick to blame Root and hadn’t even thought of the possibility that it might have been her fault instead.

“Passing around the blame isn’t going to help anyone,” Reese muttered in her ear and she hadn’t even realised he had stepped closer to her. “I was watching him too.”

Shaw shook her head bitterly. “Doesn’t matter now anyway.”

“Shaw –”

But Shaw ignored him and went back in to check on her patient.

Shaw stopped short when she entered the room though, not expecting anyone else to be there, and she ground her teeth down at the sight of Jason sitting on the chair she had been practically living in for the past few days and wondered how he had managed to slip in here without her noticing.

“Where the hell have you been?” she snapped, not liking the way he casually held Root’s hand in his own.

Jason ignored her and let go of Root’s hand.

“Is this the part where you tell me to stay away from your girlfriend?” Jason asked, getting to his feet.

“Fuck you,” Shaw growled.

Jason smirked and moved past her. “Sorry, you’re not my type.”

“Yeah, well,” said Shaw, turning around to watch his retreating back, “you’re not Root’s.”

Jason paused, turning around to look at her carefully. “You sure about that? She _did_ kiss me, you know.”

And that was all Shaw needed to step forward with her hand made into a fist. Jason didn’t even flinch and somehow Daniel had appeared between them and put a restraining hand on each of their shoulders before Shaw could do anything stupid.

“What the hell are you doing?” he whispered, as if he were afraid to wake Root. “This isn’t helping anyone.”

Jason stuck his hands up defensively and left the room, shaking his head.

“If he comes in here again,” Shaw threatened, “I swear to God I’ll –”

“What?” said Daniel. “Punch him? Shoot him? You don’t get to decide who cares about Root, Shaw.”

Shaw swallowed and looked away.

“We’re all worried about her,” Daniel said more gently, but Shaw wasn’t sure if everyone could be counted in that assessment. She knew Finch certainly wasn’t. “I’ll talk to Jason,” he added when Shaw continued to say nothing.

Shaw let out a heavy breath. “No,” she said. “I’ll… apologise… or whatever,” she said flatly.

Daniel raised an eyebrow at that. “Okay,” he said slowly and she could feel his eyes on her as she left the room.

She found Jason in the kitchen, talking into his phone.

“You told me it would be ready by now,” he hissed and started slightly when he saw Shaw hovering in the doorway. “I’ll call you back,” he said hurriedly and hung up. “Still trying to get this stupid apartment sorted,” he explained, putting his phone away.

But Shaw didn’t care about his explanations and she suddenly wondered what the hell she was doing in here, why she felt the need to apologise to this asshole who was doing his best to piss her off every chance he could get.

But she did know why. She knew Root would want her to, would want her to get along with her little helper monkeys, because despite everything, Root had actually grown rather fond of the three of them. And Jason was still part of the team, whether Shaw liked it or not.

Jason cleared his throat. “Was there something you wanted?” he asked brusquely.

Shaw clenched her teeth. “No, actually, there wasn’t,” she said and found she couldn’t bring herself to do it and instead turned on her heel and went back the way she had come. Daniel glanced at her as she passed, looking like he knew she couldn’t do it, but she decided she didn’t care. Shaw wasn’t about to apologise to Jason anytime soon, but she also wasn’t about to punch him either, no matter how tempted she was.

She felt a little proud at herself for that, and wondered if Root would be too.

*

It took Root a lot of effort to force her eyes open and when she finally managed it, she found she would rather shut the whole world out anyway. It was too bright and painful and she found the darkness that came with unconsciousness to be more pleasant than the reality of what she had done.

But she couldn’t keep them closed forever, and the next time she woke up, it was as if someone had her on sensory overload, like someone had turned the dial up too far and she didn’t know how to turn it off. She could feel the needle in her arm of the IV line, pumping drugs into her body, stabbing its way into her flesh. She could feel the wound on her leg like it was on fire, could feel every ache in her body like it was the first.

Root tried to sit up, tried to pull the needle out of her arm, but strong arms held her down and an even stronger voice said, “Leave it.”

Shaw dug her fingers into Root’s upper arms deep enough to bruise, and the fresh pain that it brought gave Root something to focus on, allowed her to ignore everything else that felt wrong with her. Her eyes met Shaw’s and Root saw nothing but steel there, hard and cold. No… _indifferent_ , Root thought.

Root stilled and Shaw let her go, moved off to the side to fix the IV line that Root had tried to remove. Root watched her work, could feel her eyes getting heavy and soon the darkness took her once again.

*

Root groaned when Shaw shined the penlight in her eyes and tried to shut them, but Shaw kept one lid open gently with her thumb, then checked the other before turning the light off and placing it to the side.

“Squeeze my hand,” said Shaw. There was that indifference again, Root noted, like she was just any other patient. But Root complied without a fuss, squeezing as hard as she could, trying to grind the bones of Shaw’s fingers together. She didn’t think she succeeded all that well, but Shaw seemed satisfied enough. “And the other,” she said. But Root didn’t move, because that would involve stretching over, and that seemed like a lot more effort than she could give at the moment.

Shaw let out an annoyed breath and stretched her own arm across the bed, taking Root’s other hand. “Squeeze.”

Root did as she was told and tried not to read too much into the way Shaw let her hand fall back down onto the bed, as if she were dropping something that repulsed her.

“What were those three things I told you to remember?” Shaw asked.

Root closed her eyes, wondering if this was really necessary, but knew better than to ask. Not with Shaw in the mood that she was in.

“Apple, sunset and the SIG-Sauer SSG 3000,” Root recited with a smug smirk. Shaw pressed her lips together slightly and Root wondered if she had expected Root to forget the last one. “So what’s the diagnosis, doc?” Root asked lightly.

Shaw’s face hardened and she looked away to fiddle with the monitors that were by Root’s bedside.

“That you’re an idiot,” Shaw said quietly.

Root bit her lip. “I didn’t know neurological exams could diagnose idiocy.”

“This isn’t a joke, Root,” Shaw snapped. “Your little one woman suicide mission almost got you killed.”

“Pretending you care again?” Root asked and didn’t know why she pushing, especially since she was bedridden and had only one good leg. She didn’t exactly have an effective escape route in place.

“You know I do,” Shaw muttered.

“Do I?” said Root because she really honestly didn’t. She’d only been awake ten minutes and Shaw’s gruff bedside manner left no doubt as to why her first choice of career hadn’t worked out. But there was more to it than that, Root knew. She could see it in the way that Shaw carefully avoided her eyes, her brisk and professional all business touch, the way she looked like she couldn’t wait to get out of this room. “Look,” said Root, averting her eyes, “what I said before –”

“You said it because you thought you were dying,” Shaw said roughly.

“I said it because I meant it,” Root snapped and didn’t like the sudden silence that followed. It seemed to suck all the air out of the room, left Root wondering if she was even still breathing and she scolded herself for opening her mouth when really, it would have been better if she had never opened it at all.

“What do you want from me, Root?” Shaw said quietly. “I can’t tell you something I don’t feel.”

Root sucked in a heavy breath and tried to pretend it didn’t hurt as much as the bullet wound in her leg did. “I know.”

“You knew what you were getting in to,” Shaw added, not looking at her, and Root found she didn’t want to hear her excuses.

“I _know,”_ said Root, more forcefully this time. She reached for Shaw’s hand, because she needed _something_ , her fingers brushing lightly against Shaw’s. But Shaw snatched her hand away like she had been burned and Root swallowed thickly, watching with blurry eyes as Shaw left the room without a word.

Root closed her eyes, felt liquid drip down her cheeks and quickly wiped at her face, not used to the avalanche of emotions that seemed to be ploughing through her.

“How long have you been standing there?” said Root when she thought she was composed enough to speak.

Gen inched her way from behind the shadows of the doorway. “Not long,” Gen said, moving towards Root’s beside a little. “I wasn’t spying, I promise.”

Root didn’t believe her, but she didn’t mind either. And she looked at Gen and felt more tears prick at her eyes, felt like she was about to burst from it.

“I am so sorry,” said Root and didn’t quite manage to hold back the sob that threatened to overwhelm her.

“It’s okay,” said Gen, resting her hand next to Root’s on the bed, not quite touching, as if she were afraid Root might break if she did. “I don’t blame you.”

And that was enough to send the tears flowing down Root’s cheeks again. Because she didn’t deserve it, this forgiveness. And part of her didn’t want it.

“Are you okay?” Root asked when she could speak again.

Gen nodded. “Shaw checked me over. Twice.” She said this last with an eye roll and Root realised Gen made an even worse patient than she did.

“What happened to you cheek?” Root asked, brushing the tip of her finger lightly across the purple bruise on Gen’s face.

“Oh,” said Gen, almost as if she had forgotten it was there. “When they were taking me out of the van, I bit one of the guys’ hands and tried to get away.”

“Good for you,” Root said proudly.

“Didn’t work though,” said Gen, looking down at her feet. “He hit me across the face so hard I thought I was going to be sick.”

Root felt a sudden anger then, thought it was going to consume her and eat her inside out. And she wanted to be back in that warehouse, just so she could shoot all those bad guys again for daring to lay a hand on Gen.

“Shaw says she’s going to teach me some better moves though,” Gen continued, “but I’ve not to tell Harold.”

 _No_ , thought Root, of course Harold wouldn’t approve of something that might have some practical use.

Gen took Root's hand then and Root gripped it tight, afraid that if she let Gen go, she would be lost forever.

"I'm glad you're okay, Root," said Gen.

"I’m glad you're okay too," said Root and had to wipe at her eyes again.

Gen climbed up onto the bed beside her, on Root's good side, resting her head on Root's shoulder, one arm tight around her waist. Root hesitated for a moment, unsure what to do, but then she put her arm around Gen and pulled her close, finding that she didn't want to let her go. Gen was warm and small at her side and Root felt like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Don't worry about Shaw," Gen said tiredly after a while, startling Root a little. "She has feelings. She's just not listening right now."

Root wished that she could believe her, but she remembered the way Shaw had acted when Root first woke up and all the other times during the last six months since they had started this... thing. It hadn't been easy, any of it, and it only seemed to get more difficult the longer they kept at it. And now Root had gone and opened her mouth and said something she should have kept to herself. She should have known better, but she hadn't expected to make it out of that car alive. And now there was no going back, no matter what she said or did.

Root didn't say any of that out loud though, because here was Gen who believed in something with all her heart and Root couldn't bring herself to take it away. So she said nothing and instead she brought her lips down on the top of Gen's head, inhaled the smell of her and marvelled that she was even real. That she was still here and that she didn't blame Root for all the things that she had done.

And if she didn't get Shaw's forgiveness or any of the others’, she at least had Gen's and Root thought she could maybe, possibly, live with herself after all.

"Genrika."

It was Harold, standing straight and proper and frowning down at them both, his face just as stern as his voice.

Root stiffened slightly and nudged Gen, who looked half asleep, to get her to move. Gen stirred and sat up, rubbing at her eyes tiredly.

"Perhaps you should allow Miss Groves to get some rest," Harold continued.

Gen smiled at her sadly and hopped off the bed and Root wondered if the kid had picked up on their precarious relationship. It wouldn't surprise Root if she had, the kid had picked up on so many other things around here.

Harold watched as Gen left the room, making sure she was out of earshot before turning to Root again.

"Come to lecture me, Harold?" Root asked, sitting up slightly as if that would make her appear less vulnerable, as if the dried tear stains on her face didn't matter.

Harold stiffened slightly, but other than that, he didn't react to her words, didn’t fall for her casual manner, the way she pretended that she was above all this, that nothing mattered. Root didn't fall for it either, and she wondered when she became this person, this person who cared and cried and _hurt_.

"What you did was reckless and foolish," Harold said carefully. Root wanted to roll her eyes because he really was here to lecture her. "It almost got both you and Genrika killed," Harold continued and Root wanted to scream _Gen, her name is Gen_ at him but knew that he wouldn't respond to it, knew he would only ignore her just like he had ignored her concerns about this ghost. But he was just like her, he had been convinced that nobody else would get hurt and he had let her go off and search for a man more dangerous than either of them put together.

"Do you feel better now?" Root asked when it became clear that Harold had nothing else to say. "Have you absconded your guilt?"

Harold didn't respond, the only indication that he had even heard her was the slight thinning of his lips. And she wondered if he did feel guilty, or if his ability to pass all the blame on to her made him above such things.

But she had no doubt that he didn't give a shit about her, that if she had died in that warehouse he would have been more than a little relieved. And she couldn't really blame him for that, could she? Not after everything she had done to him. There were some things you couldn't forget, some things you couldn't _forgive_ and she knew that part of him never would be able to forgive her for what she put him through, no matter what she did to prove to him, to prove to everyone, that she wasn't that person anymore.

"I don't think it's a good idea for Genrika to be around you anymore," Harold said. "When this is over, she can stay with me until school starts."

Root felt like someone had shot her all over again. "You can't," she began and didn’t know what else to say, because part of her knew she wasn't good for her, that she would only end up hurting Gen in the long run anyway.

"I think you'll find that I can," said Harold and Root knew he would do everything in his power to make sure Gen never saw her again.

Harold left then and Root watched his back as he limped out of the room. She didn't want to give him the last word though. She couldn't.

"Something's wrong with the Machine, Harold," said Root because she couldn't deny it any longer, couldn't keep coming up with excuses as to why the Machine was no longer talking to her. Harold stopped in his tracks but didn't turn around, didn't say anything and she knew that he had noticed it too. "How long are you planning on ignoring that as well?"

But Harold said nothing, she wasn't really expecting an answer anyway and she watched him limp out of the room wondering when he had given up on his creation, how long it had been since he had lost faith in the reasons why he had built the Machine in the first place.

*

Root had plenty of visitors over the next few days to keep her occupied, mainly the boys and usually together like there were some fragile thread they were afraid would snap if they didn't stick together. Or maybe that was just Root's way of looking at them. At least together they were safer, she told herself and hoped it was true.

The boys didn't scold her like Harold or Shaw had done, but they did call her out on not telling them the full picture of what she was doing. It was Daniel who looked the most shaken by it and Root wondered how much Daizo had told him of the night they had crossed paths with Austin Devine. Jason remained quiet during their visits, like a shadow blending into the background, but Root could still see the concern in his eyes, more evident than in the other two and she tried not to look at it because it felt like it might engulf her if she did.

Gen came in to visit her too, but only ever with one of the boys and Root didn't have to wonder how much of that was Harold's doing. She did wonder, however, who had convinced him to allow Gen into see her as long as she had supervision but Root had never asked, too afraid of the answer and what it might mean.

The only time Root ever saw Shaw was when she came in to check on Root's bandages and pulse rate and whatever else it was she was doing, her manner all brisk and curt like she was seeing past Root and only down to her wounds. Root had tried to engage her in conversation, tried to get a rise out of her the first few times, but Shaw never took the bait and eventually Root gave up, reducing any time they ever spent alone together to a sullen silence.

It was the visit from John that surprised Root the most though. She appreciated that he didn't try to make small talk, that he went straight to the point.

"You should have told us," said John, staring at Root with such force that she couldn't look away. "You should have told _Shaw_."

Root had wanted to say nothing as soon as he had walked into the room but she found her mouth opening without her permission.

"She would only have wanted to get involved," Root said, knowing it was a feeble excuse.

"Yes," Reese agreed, "and I would have had her back."

Root looked away. Even with John by her side, Root still feared for Shaw, still couldn't look past the old bullet wound in her gut that had almost killed her.

"When are you going to start getting it through your head that we're a team around here?" John continued. "It's time to start acting like a team player, Root."

Root smiled slightly at the way his words sounded so much like something she had said him, back when Samaritan was online and they were in hiding and she found him in a bar, drunk out of his mind, not giving a damn about the Decima trigger teams that were about to take him out. Not until Root had convinced him anyway, convinced him that his team needed him whether he liked it or not. And she still wasn't sure how she had managed it. She didn't even think he had remembered what she had said, he had been that drunk. But evidently he had and now he was throwing her words back in her face and they whipped at her, sending a fresh wave of guilt and regret through her and she couldn't believe she had been that stupid.

"You should have told us," John repeated.

"I told Harold," said Root quietly, needing to justify her actions somehow.

John looked away and she could tell he wasn't happy about that either and she wondered if he had had similar words with Harold as well.

John opened his mouth to say something else but quickly closed it again when Shaw walked in. Shaw glanced between them both briefly before turning to John.

"Leon says he won't meet with me unless you come," Shaw said, looking like she had no idea why this might be the case.

"Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you threatened to shoot him last time you saw him?" John suggested with a smirk. Shaw shrugged casually.  "Fine,” said John heavily, rolling his eyes. “Give me a second," he added before heading out of the room.

"What were you guys talking about?" Shaw asked stepping closer to one of the monitors and turning the dials absently. Root hadn't been attached to the thing in days and she knew Shaw was using it as an excuse not to look at her.

"Nothing important," said Root evasively, knowing that John would probably rather that they kept their conversation to themselves. "Why are you meeting with Leon?"

Shaw shrugged. "He's stealing me some antibiotics. We ran out."

"Oh," said Root and Shaw didn't say anything more. Root wondered how long she was going to keep this up, this passive aggressive silence that seemed to press down on her like a weight. "Would you just yell at me or something," Root said eventually. "Anything is better than this."

Root watched carefully as Shaw clenched her jaw, closed her eyes briefly before opening them again and staring fixatedly at the monitor.

"Greer was at the warehouse," Shaw said eventually, her voice so quiet that Root could barely hear her.

"What?" said Root, but Shaw didn't say anything else, just left the room to go find Reese. Root stared at the spot where she had been, wondering if she had misinterpreted what she had thought to be Shaw's anger all this time, when it was really guilt that Shaw was projecting. But no, Root thought, it had been her fault, the ghost had called _her_. She had done this. But she did wonder what Greer's involvement was in all of this, if he had hired the ghost for some reason or if the ghost had reached out to him.

*

"Want to talk about it?" Reese asked as he drove them to their meeting point with Leon.

"Talk about what?" said Shaw, staring out of the window purposefully. She knew exactly what Reese was referring to though. He had been in the car, he had heard everything. But she didn't want to talk about it, she didn't want to think about it, so she ignored it and played dumb and was grateful when Reese didn't push her on it.

Because it was easier pretending that it hadn’t happened than dealing with the consequences. So she ignored it and pretended that she was fine and didn’t say anything for the rest of the journey.

Leon was already at the meeting point waiting for them. He had chosen the place, some busy coffee shop because he had felt "safer" doing this somewhere in public, somewhere where there were witnesses. Shaw rolled her eyes at the way he inched away from her slightly as she took the seat next to him.

"Did you get it?" Shaw asked.

"What, no 'hello' or 'how are you' first?" Leon said and Shaw clenched her jaw in annoyance.

"Did you or not?" she said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, I got it," he said and kicked a bag under the table over to her. Shaw bent over and looked inside, satisfied that it contained everything she had asked for and she stood up with the bag slung casually over one shoulder.

“Uh… you guys are paying me, right?” Leon asked.

Shaw glanced at Reese who looked about as aggravated as she did over Leon’s request.

“What happened to the kindness of your heart?” Reese asked.

“That’s hardly going to pay my rent, is it?” Leon griped and licked his lips slightly when Reese pulled out his wallet. “How much you got there?” he asked, eyeing the wad of cash in Reese’s hand with longing.

“I dunno… Shaw, what do you think?” said Reese. “I’d say fifty bucks should cover any expenses, services rendered…”

“I’d say twenty,” said Shaw and had to supress the smirk that threatened at the sight of Leon’s affronted look.

“You can’t be serious?” said Leon.

But Reese didn’t say or do anything, distracted by someone behind Leon. Shaw followed his gaze, surprised that she recognised the woman that had caught his attention until she realised who it was.

“Zoe?” said John, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

“John,” said Zoe, ignoring the cup of coffee that the barista tried to hand to her and stepping over to their table.

They stood staring at each other in silence for a moment, and Shaw looked between them both, feeling a little awkward. Leon stared between them both too, then used the opportunity to snatch the cash out of Reese’s hand and quickly make his escape. Shaw had never seen Leon move so fast, the little shit. She thought about going after him, but got distracted by Zoe’s sudden movement, knew Reese hadn’t see it. He felt it though, as soon as Zoe’s fist made contact with his nose and Shaw heard the crack as the bone broke.

“I thought you guys were dead,” Zoe said dumbly as she watched John stumble backwards slightly, blood dripping down his face and onto his shirt.

“I take it John hasn’t called in a while,” Shaw guessed, unable to supress the smirk this time. “Nice right hook, by the way.”

“Thanks,” said Zoe and John glared at them both.

“I think you broke my nose,” John complained, trying to staunch the blood flow with his hand but not having much luck. Shaw handed him a napkin and decided to let him suffer for a bit before fixing his nose for him.

“So how’s it going?” Zoe asked Shaw, ignoring John deliberately.

“Uh… fine,” said Shaw, which felt like the biggest lie she had ever told, but Zoe didn’t need to know that.

Zoe turned back around to retrieve her coffee and Shaw could feel Reese’s eyes on her, knew that he was itching to get out of there as soon as possible. Shaw didn’t blame him, she’d want to get out of there too if their roles were reversed. But she had a sudden idea, one she knew John wouldn’t like, but decided to go with it anyway.

“Hey, Zoe?” Shaw asked. “What are you doing this weekend?”

*

Root had managed to convince Daniel to help her out of bed and through into the living room and knew he was only doing it because Shaw was out, that he wouldn’t have dared risk her wrath otherwise. The change of scene was good though – Root was starting to get a little sick of the sight of the same four walls – and she smiled slightly when she saw Gen on the couch with Daizo watching TV. Root rolled her eyes when she realised what it was they were watching though. It was The Avengers, Gen’s favourite movie, and she must have watched it at least ten times that Root knew of since she had moved in, and she had made Root watch it with her at least three. Root knew she was about to receive a fourth viewing when Gen glanced up at her, smiled, and shimmied over a bit to make room for her on the couch. Even Jason was watching it reluctantly from an armchair, but he didn’t seem as eager about it as the other two and looked like he was about to fall asleep.

Daniel helped her to sit down and she could feel Harold’s eyes on her from across the room, knew he was watching carefully and that he didn’t like it. She ignored him though and let Gen natter in her ear, but she wasn’t really listening. Getting out of bed had left her feeling tired and she struggled to keep her eyes open.

Gen had a comic book in her hand and she was comparing the movie versions to their comic book counterparts as they watched the movie, Daizo explaining a few things to her as they went along. Apparently he was a big fan too, and he had let Gen read some of his comic books over the past few days since they had been stuck inside with nothing else to do. Gen had devoured them all, eager for more, her obsession with a certain Norse mythological superhero not diminishing in the slightest.

A few weeks ago, Root would have probably rolled her eyes at Gen’s enthusiasm, but now she was just grateful that she had something else to focus on, that she wasn’t constantly thinking about the warehouse and that, according to Daniel, she was sleeping better.

Daniel stiffened slightly when the front door opened, looking extremely guilty and Root wanted to snap at him for being so obvious. She turned slightly in her seat and saw Shaw glaring at him from the doorway and he quickly made himself scarce before she could say anything. Then Shaw turned her glare onto Root, but Root wasn’t fazed by it. Shaw’s strict doctor mode was getting on her nerves.

“Who’s she?” Gen muttered in her ear, staring past Shaw at the woman behind her. Root followed her gaze, raised her eyebrow in surprise, but then got quickly distracted by the blood all over John’s face as he followed the two women into the apartment.

“Mr. Reese,” said Harold, “is everything okay?”

John smiled grimly at him and didn’t say anything, but Root caught the way Zoe – was that her name? Root couldn’t remember – smiled smugly at him and wondered if she had been the cause of the blood he was covered in.

“Miss Morgan,” said Harold, glancing away from Reese. “Although it’s a pleasure to see you again, what are you doing here?”

“Ask Shaw,” said Zoe with a shrug.

Harold turned to Shaw then, but she ignored his questioning look and came around to sit on the coffee table opposite Gen, taking the remote out of her hand to turn the TV off.

“I need you to stay with Zoe for a few days, kiddo,” said Shaw.

“Why?” asked Gen, glancing at Zoe apprehensively.

“It’s not safe here,” said Shaw.

“But I don’t want to,” said Gen glancing from Root to Zoe and back at Shaw again. “I want to stay here.”

Shaw gritted her teeth and Root could tell she was about to snap, that she was going to say something stupid in order to get Gen moving, even if it involved making Gen upset enough that she would want to leave.

“Hey,” said Root quietly, nudging Gen on the shoulder to get her attention. “Think of it as a mission. You wanted to know who Zoe is, now’s your chance to find out.”

Gen scrunched her face up in thought. “Like being undercover?” she said slowly and Root nodded.

“Yeah,” said Root, “like being undercover. Right, Shaw?”

Shaw swallowed, not looking at either of them. “Yeah, I guess.”

Gen bit her lip and remained silent for a few moments. “Okay,” she said eventually, “I’ll go.”

Root watched her leave to go pack some of her stuff and when she turned around she found Shaw watching her carefully.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” said Shaw and Root couldn’t tell if she was concerned or annoyed, but Shaw stood up and left before Root could ask her about it.

Jason smiled at her sheepishly when she glanced up and she had almost forgotten he was there. She wondered what he thought of all this, what any of them thought about it, but knew it was best not to ask, and instead she watched silently as Daizo stood up and put The Avengers DVD back in its box ready for Gen to take away with her.

Gen returned a few minutes later, backpack slung over one shoulder as she stared down at her feet.

“Here,” said Shaw, handing her a cell phone. “Call if you need anything, but-”

“Only if it’s an emergency,” Gen finished for her. “Yeah, I know.”

Shaw smiled slightly and squeezed her shoulder briefly. “You’ll be okay, kiddo.”

Gen smiled sadly like she didn’t believe her, but she cheered up a bit when Daizo handed her back her DVD and an unread comic book to go with it. Then she hugged both Daizo and Root before dutifully joining Zoe and John at the front door.

“Do you like The Avengers?” Gen asked Zoe brightly.

“Um… I’ve never seen it,” said Zoe, looking a little startled.

“Oh,” said John with a smirk, because he had been forced to watch The Avengers on more than one occasion as well, “you are in for a treat.”

Root watched as John led Zoe and Gen out of the apartment. She was relieved that Gen was going somewhere safer, somewhere where this ghost couldn’t find her, but the safe house felt a little too quiet as soon as she had walked out of the door and Root longed to have her back just so there wouldn’t be this sudden deafening silence all around them. It didn’t feel right, Gen not being here and Root wanted her warm and solid presence by her side, so that she knew that Gen was okay. She would even suffer through ten more viewings of that stupid movie if she had to.

Daniel appeared back at her side, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Uh, Shaw says I’ve to take you back to bed so she can give you a shot.”

Root rolled her eyes but let him help her up anyway. Her leg wasn’t so bad now, but she still wasn’t quite capable of walking on her own yet and she was even more tired by the time Daniel got her back into bed. He left her and Root thought she was going to fall asleep before Shaw appeared at her side, a bottle of antibiotics in one hand and a needle in the other.

Shaw didn’t say anything as she prepped the needle and when she reached for Root’s arm, Root tried to flinch away.

“Don’t be such a wimp,” said Shaw, gripping her arm tightly to stop her from moving.

“I don’t like needles,” said Root and Shaw rolled her eyes, loosening her hold slightly on Root’s arm.

“Look at me,” said Shaw and Root did, looking at her right in the eye. “I’m not Control.”

“I know,” said Root, swallowing thickly and when she glanced downwards, Shaw had already given her the shot without her feeling anything. “You’re good at that,” said Root quietly, watching as Shaw placed some gauze over the injection site.

“What, stabbing people in the arm with needles?” asked Shaw lightly.

“No,” said Root, “being a doctor. Do you miss it?”

Shaw paused slightly, not looking at her. “No,” she said eventually.

“Are you lying?” asked Root.

Shaw didn’t answer her, instead examined the wound on Root’s leg. Someone had cut a flap in her sweatpants for easy access. It wasn’t the most glamorous of outfits, but at least it meant she didn’t have to take her pants off every time the dressing needed changed.

“How’s the pain?” Shaw asked when she was satisfied that both the wound and the bandage were clean.

Root shrugged. “Not so bad,” she lied. It had hurt like hell ever since Shaw weaned her off the pain meds. “Maybe you should kiss it better,” she joked, half expecting Shaw to walk out in annoyance. But she didn’t though, instead she ducked her head and pressed her lips softly against the bandage. Root let out a gasp of surprise, and she knew then that something was wrong.

Shaw looked up, watched Root for a moment before bringing their lips softly together. Root savoured it, the feel and the taste. It was the first time Shaw had touched her in days without it being for medical reasons and Root was more startled by it than she should be. It didn’t feel right, how gentle Shaw was being with her. And when Shaw pulled back, Root wanted to look away but found that she couldn’t, found that she could only sit and watch as Shaw broke her heart.

“I can’t do this,” Shaw whispered, shaking her head. “I tried, but I can’t.”

There were tears rolling down Root’s cheeks. She didn’t know when they had started and she didn’t know if they would ever stop. “Shaw –”

“I’m sorry.”

Root tried to reach for her then, but Shaw moved out of her grasp, walked out of the room, walked out of her _life_ and Root could do nothing but watch and cry and marvel at how much it hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gen's Avenger obsession comes from a deleted scene set before the epilogue to NS that I have yet to write because I am lame. All you need to know is that Gen made Root watch the Avengers the first time they ever met. Needless to say, both Shaw and Root were bored out of their minds.


	9. Chapter 9

As soon as Shaw left the room, she felt like shit. But she couldn’t go back in, no matter how much she wanted to. It was better this way, she told herself, over and over again, but the further she walked away from the room, the less she believed it.

“How’s it going, Daniel?” she asked, coming up beside him to watch over his shoulder as he worked on Greer’s laptop. She didn’t really care how he was getting on, but she needed something to distract herself with and he was currently the closest thing she could find.

“Not so good, I’m afraid,” said Daniel, not looking up from what he was doing.

But Shaw wasn’t listening to him. “Where’s Finch?”

“He took Bear out for a walk,” said Daniel. Shaw frowned and knew Reese would flip his shit if he found out, still determined to keep everyone, including Harold, locked up tight in the safe house.

“I’m going out,” Shaw said eventually, staring past him.

“Uh…” said Daniel, finally pausing what he was doing and looking up. “Are you okay?” he asked, watching her carefully.

“I’m fine,” Shaw lied, not sure if she would ever feel fine again. But she didn’t give Daniel time to question her on it, and she left the safe house, feeling his eyes on her until she slammed the door shut behind her.

Shaw had no idea where she was going, all she knew was that she had to get out of there. The thought of going home didn’t sit well with her though, not with all of Root’s stuff still there, and she thought she could do with a drink anyway. There was a bar a few blocks away, she knew, and Shaw decided to head there, hoping that none of the others would think to look for her there.

The bar was busy and noisy, but Shaw managed to squeeze her way through the throng, finding an empty space at the bar and ordering herself a scotch. The well placed glare on her face ensured that no one tried to engage her in conversation and she slowly drank the night away, trying not to think about anything and failing miserably.

Because she couldn't stop thinking about Root and what she had done to her.

Shaw thought it would have been easier, that she would be able to stop thinking about Root, stop _hearing_ those three words in her head. But it just seemed to get louder and louder and not even the alcohol could drown it out. She thought it was going to consume her, leave her with nothing but an empty shell, fragile and cracked, so much so that she wanted to tear it out of her and stomp all over it until it was gone.

But she couldn't do that. All she could do was take another drink and hope that would dull it somehow. But it didn't and she ended up just feeling sick and lost.

Daniel called her a couple of times but she let them ring through to voicemail and didn’t bother listening to his messages. It wasn’t until John texted her that she put down her drink and decided to find out what all the fuss was about.

_Get back to the safe house. Daniel’s found something._

But Shaw didn’t want to care. She wanted to sit here and drink and not think or do anything. But something nagged at her. The thought of this ghost still out there, working with Greer, still nagged at her and she knew that it was far from over. That whatever they were planning next, none of them would see it coming.

Shaw downed the rest of her drink and paid her tab, ploughing her way through the crowd to exit the bar. The cold night air was like a slap in the face but Shaw felt like she needed it. The bar had been stifling, her head was stifling, and the cold air whipped at her and sobered her up. Not that she had been drunk, she wasn't that lucky. But her steps felt surer by the time she reached the safe house.

Shaw found Daniel where she had left him, flanked on either side by Finch and Reese.

"This better be good," Shaw snapped.

Reese raised his eyebrow at her, but she ignored him and watched Daniel as he fumbled out an explanation.

"So I, uh, checked Greer's laptop again like you said," Daniel explained. "And I remembered what you said about his place looking like someone wasn't even living there."

"So?" said Shaw, rubbing at her forehead absently and trying not to lose her patience over how long it was taking him to get to the point.

"So," said Daniel, not fazed by her impatience, "there was nothing on Greer's laptop apart from an empty calendar and some grocery lists..."

"And?" Shaw snapped, wondering what the hell he was getting at.

"Why would he have grocery lists on a laptop in an apartment where he isn't even staying?" said Daniel.

"Because they’re not grocery lists," said Shaw, finally getting his point.

"No," said Harold excitedly, "they're email attachments."

Daniel glanced at him, looking a little annoyed that Finch had stolen his thunder. "The emails that they originated from are long gone," Daniel explained. "But I managed to find some hidden messages within the lists themselves."

"They're from our ghost?" Shaw asked.

Daniel nodded. "I think so."

“What do they say?” asked Shaw, not sure if she even wanted to know.

“These are old messages, I think,” said Daniel. “I think Greer and this ghost found another way of communicating when you guys started watching the apartment.”

“What do they say, Daniel?” asked Shaw tightly.

Daniel swallowed thickly.

“They were talking about the Machine,” said Harold faintly.

“We think they did something to it,” Daniel continued.

“How?” asked Shaw, but she could believe it. The Machine had been acting strange for weeks, possibly months. Shaw couldn’t be sure how long Root had been keeping the Machine’s reticence quiet.

“We don’t know,” said Reese.

“Harold,” said Shaw slowly, thinking that this had gone on long enough, “I think it’s time we went to visit the Machine.”

Harold stiffened slightly and didn’t look happy about the suggestion. But they needed his cooperation. He was the only one who knew where the Machine was after having moved it six months ago after the boys uploaded the Machine’s code into Samaritan’s new servers. Harold had moved it, ensuring that neither Decima nor Control could find it, ensuring that no one could find it. But now it looked like this ghost and Greer might have.

“Shaw’s right, Finch,” said Reese. “If they did something to the Machine, then we need to know for sure.”

Finch looked at his feet, shaking his head. But then he looked up at them both, looking like he had decided something. “Alright,” he said eventually. “But we should go now.”

They nodded in agreement and Daniel quickly gathered up both his laptop and Greer’s. Reese disappeared into one of the bedrooms and Shaw followed him, watching as he retrieved a duffel bag from under the bed. He opened it to reveal an array of guns and let Shaw take first pick. Shaw took an extra nano and some spare ammunition, checking the gun was loaded before clicking the safety on and tucking it into the waist band of her jeans.

“I ended it,” she said suddenly, concealing some spare magazines in her jacket. Reese paused what he was doing, glancing at her. “With Root,” she clarified when he didn’t say anything. “Should never have started anyway.”

Reese shrugged. “If that’s what you think.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shaw snapped.

Reese didn’t say anything for a moment, just picked up a gun and tested the weight of it in his hand.

“Root said something you didn’t like,” said Reese, tucking his gun away into his pocket, “and now you’re freaking out.”

Shaw looked away. “Like I’m going to take advice from you,” she said bitterly. “Considering you haven’t called Zoe in what… over a year? And you let her think you were dead the entire time.”

Reese smiled slightly but there wasn’t any humour to it. “At least I’m not pretending to be something I’m not.”

Shaw didn’t know what to say to that and she watched silently as Reese left the room before picking up a spare gun and following him.

“Here,” Shaw said, handing the gun to Daniel. “Just in case.”

Daniel looked at it, startled for a moment before nodding his head and taking it.

“Just don’t point it at one of us,” she added.

Daizo appeared at her side then, looking at her expectantly, like he wanted a gun too.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Shaw said, trying not to snap at him.

“Coming with you,” said Daizo, glancing between her and Daniel, looking so young and innocent and all Shaw could see was how he was when he was around Gen. They were both kids really, and she didn’t like the idea of him coming with them.

“No,” said Shaw. “Stay here. Keep an eye on Root.”

Daizo nodded reluctantly and Daniel glanced at her in relief, opening his mouth to say something, but Shaw cut him off.

“He’s a crappy shot anyway,” she said and Daniel smiled at her knowingly.

"Why don't you check the darknet for this ghost again," Daniel suggested.

"My laptop broke," said Daizo.

"Well then use Jason's," said Daniel as if this were the obvious solution.

"Where is nerd number three, anyway?" Shaw asked and couldn't get the thought of him sitting by Root's beside out of her head. She wondered how long it would take him to snake his way in and take advantage of the situation.

Daniel shrugged. "I think he went out to go get some milk or something."

"Which part of stay in the house do you people not get?" John complained loudly and glared pointedly at Finch. Finch smiled at him sheepishly as they headed out the door.

Shaw paused, glancing back towards Root's room, wondering if they should let her know what was going on. Root had more right than anyone to know what was happening with the Machine. But Shaw couldn't force herself to go in, afraid of what she might find there and she turned around, bumping into Daizo who was staring at her with a curious look on his face.

"What?" she snapped.

"Are you okay?" Daizo asked.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" said Shaw tersely. "I'm fine."

She didn't give Daizo time to respond as she stormed out of the apartment, hurrying to catch up with the others.

*

" _This_ is where you are keeping the Machine?" Shaw asked, staring up at the hundred storey office building.

"It seemed like as good a place as any," said Harold. “The building is rented out by day, to a few different sock companies that I have a hand in. The Machine’s servers are in the basement. No one has access but me.”

“Well then, what are we waiting for, Finch?” said Shaw lightly, following him inside. “Let’s go talk to the Machine.”

“Starting to think we should have brought Root,” Daniel muttered behind her.

“Let’s not go there,” Reese responded quickly. Shaw glared at them both over her shoulder, but Daniel just looked at her blankly and didn’t say anything further.

Both a key and an access code were needed to reach the basement levels, and Finch produced a key once they were all inside the elevator, typing in a code so fast that Shaw didn’t catch it and they all stood in silence as the elevator made its decent.

When the doors slid open, Shaw was half expecting to find Greer and their ghost waiting for them with an ambush, but there was nothing but the steady thrum of the Machine’s servers.

“There’s an access point over there,” Finch said to Daniel and he headed in the direction where Finch had pointed to, setting up his laptop and hooking it up to a server.

“How long is this going to take?” said Shaw, feeling bored already.

Finch glanced at her steadily. “As long as it needs to. Don’t touch anything,” he added, when Reese reached out a hand to one of the servers next to him. “Either of you.”

“I wasn’t going to touch anything,” Shaw muttered as Reese snatched his hand back sheepishly.

“Hm,” said Harold sternly and moved off to join Daniel.

Reese rolled his eyes, and moved over to hover by Daniel’s shoulder, watching him work. He lasted about ten minutes before Daniel started complaining about his looming and he eventually came back over to Shaw, looking a little awkward as he tried not to give into the temptation to lean against a server and endure Harold’s wrath in response.

“Was Gen okay when you left her?” Shaw asked quietly, not looking at him, instead staring straight ahead as if engrossed by the blinking lights of the server in front of her.

“Her and Zoe seemed to hit it off,” said Reese and she could feel his eyes on her. “She’ll be okay.”

“Yeah,” Shaw breathed out and walked over to Finch and Daniel to see how they were getting on.

Shaw didn’t like the frown that had developed on Daniel’s face. “What is it?”

Daniel glanced up at her briefly before handing his laptop to Finch. “I think you should double check this.”

Harold took the laptop and Shaw watched as his face turned from curious to concerned in less than three seconds flat.

“This can’t be right,” said Finch, typing a few commands into the laptop, but the concern on his face only deepened.

“What is it?” said Reese, coming up to stand by Shaw’s side. “Harold?” he said worriedly.

“The Machine’s base code,” said Daniel, “it’s… different.”

“Different how?” asked Shaw, not liking at all how that sounded.

“As in someone completely re-wrote it,” Daniel explained.

“Why would they do that?” asked Reese.

“I don’t know,” said Daniel, “but it’s completely compromised the Machine’s higher functions. Like when a human brain’s neurones start to deteriorate,” said Daniel, fumbling to explain.

“You’re saying the Machine has Alzheimer’s?” asked Shaw in disbelief, struggling to understand what the hell he was talking about.

“Something like that,” said Daniel vaguely. “It explains why the Machine’s never warned us about the ghost. It keeps forgetting.”

If he was right, it also explained why the Machine had stopped talking to Root so much, Shaw thought, why they were getting the numbers the old way.

“This is impossible,” Finch snapped. “The only way someone could have done this was if they had altered the code before it was uploaded onto Samaritan’s servers.”

Shaw glanced at Reese and she remembered what he had told her about finding the Dream Trio six months ago at Decima’s site for Samaritan’s new servers, _these_ servers. How they had each been sent a piece of the Machine’s code by the Machine itself, dutifully following the Machine’s plan for survival. Reese looked at her and then they both turned to stare at Daniel.

“What?” he said stupidly, then his eyes widened. “It wasn’t me!”

“No one said it was, dumbass,” said Shaw. “Could Greer have somehow done something to the servers themselves?”

“No,” said Finch, frowning, “that wouldn’t have worked.”

“Daniel, any ideas?” Reese asked. But Daniel wasn’t listening to them. He had paled slightly, staring into space, like he had forgotten where he was.

“Daniel?” said Shaw, not liking the look on his face. Daniel started slightly and then looked at her.

“I need my laptop,” he said, snatching it out of Finch’s hands before he could protest.

“To do what?” asked Shaw.

But Daniel ignored her, typing furiously away on his laptop. “I think I know who our ghost is.”

“How?” asked Finch, his forehead scrunching up in confusion.

“I just need to check…” said Daniel. “Oh, she is one smart kid. There wasn’t enough space on the watch to store audio and video continuously, but she must have set it to take captures every ten minutes or so.”

“Daniel,” said Shaw, clipping back her annoyance. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Gen’s watch,” Daniel explained hurriedly, talking so fast that Shaw struggled to keep up. “As soon as she came back from the warehouse I downloaded everything on it. But when you guys came in with Root, I forgot all about it.”

“You’re saying Gen got a picture of our ghost?” asked Reese.

“Yes,” said Daniel breathlessly. He clicked on his laptop and stared at the screen. Shaw had thought he looked pale before, but he looked positively ill now, like someone had sucker-punched him in the gut and he couldn’t breathe.

“Mr. Casey?” said Finch.

Daniel turned the laptop around so that they could all look at it and Shaw felt the breath leave her lungs when she recognised the man in the photo.

Their ghost.

“Shit,” someone said and Shaw didn’t know if it was her or Reese.

*

Root didn’t think she had cried so hard or so much in her life, but eventually the tears stopped, her eyes feeling raw and sore, and she was left feeling nothing but empty inside. She didn’t know how long she sat there, staring dazedly into space, her final conversation with Shaw replaying in her head.

_I can’t do this._

She should have done something, said something, to stop Shaw from walking out. She should have took back her words, pretended that she had never meant them.

_I tried, but I can’t._

But she hadn’t done anything and now Root didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know where to go from here. She didn’t want to go back to the person that she used to be, but without Shaw, she didn’t know who else she _could_ be.

She didn’t even have the Machine anymore for guidance.

Root hadn’t heard a word from Her since she had woken up and Root couldn’t escape the thought that the Machine had given up on her too.

_I’m sorry._

But what the hell was she supposed to do with Shaw’s apologies now? They meant nothing, did nothing to alleviate the pain that tore its way through her heart every time she thought about Shaw walking away from her.

“Root?”

Root looked up sharply to find Jason hovering in the doorway, but she glanced away almost immediately, unable to bear his concern as it bore into her for long.

“Are you okay?” Jason asked, stepping cautiously into the room.

Root ignored him and tried to subtly wipe at her cheeks, wondering how awful she looked and wishing everyone would just leave her alone.

“I brought you something to eat,” said Jason, “but I’m guessing you aren’t hungry.”

“No,” said Root, so quiet that she barely even heard herself.

“Something happened with Shaw?” Jason guessed and she wanted to flinch when he sat down on the chair by her bed, putting the plate of food on the floor by his feet. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Root wanted to laugh because Jason was the last person that she wanted to talk to about this. “Go away, Jason,” she said callously, but Jason didn’t seem fazed by her dismissal.

“I’m here as a friend, Root,” he said. “Nothing more.”

“Nothing more?” she said, not believing him. “What if I don’t want ‘nothing more,’ Jason?”

Jason looked at her strangely like he didn’t know what she meant, and neither did she. He didn’t say anything else, just sat watching her carefully, like he was waiting for her to make the next move. Except Root didn’t know what the next move was supposed to be.

“You were right, Jason,” said Root, looking down at her hands. “About Shaw.”

“I didn’t want to be,” he said, getting up and sitting on the edge of her bed. “I never wanted you to get hurt.”

Root let him take her hand and she was surprised by the comfort she found in his touch, the gentle way he ran his thumb over her palm.

“Jason,” she said, but it came out more as a sob and fresh tears started falling down her cheeks.

“Hey,” he said, brushing them away with his thumb. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” said Root and then she was kissing him. Her hand grasped the back of his neck, pulling him closer and she tried not to wince when his hands found her waist, tried not to think about how wrong this all felt. But she didn’t pull away, she continued to let it happen and all she could think about was how he wasn’t Shaw and Shaw was all that she wanted.

Jason’s lips were soft against hers when Shaw’s would have been rough and harsh and teasing, his chin stubble scratching against her face when Shaw’s skin would have been smooth and supple, an unblemished map for Root to explore. Jason put emotion into his touch, let his eyes betray his feelings. He was everything Shaw couldn’t be and not nearly enough.

“Root!” Daizo called from somewhere inside the apartment.

Root jumped when Daizo rushed into the room. She pushed Jason away from her, but knew it was fruitless, knew that Daizo had seen everything.

Daizo stared between them both, frozen on the spot, his face pale as he clutched the laptop in his hands. Root had expected to see shock on his face, but the look he gave them both was something else and he backed up slightly as Jason stood up.

“Is that my laptop?” said Jason, his voice hardening as he stared at Daizo.

Daizo didn’t say anything, just quickly backed out of the room as Jason followed him.

And Root recognised the look that had been on Daizo’s face then. It was the same look Daizo was sporting the other night, after she had almost gotten them both killed by Austin Devine and his crew. It was a look of abject fear and Root knew then that something was very wrong.

She heard a crash from the other room, heard Bear barking wildly before he squealed and became silent, and despite the pain in her leg, Root forced herself to stand up. She had to bite her lip to stop from crying out as fire seemed to burn its way through her body with every step and it seemed to take her forever to limp across the room, to reach the doorway and somehow force her way through it without collapsing under her useless leg.

Root froze at the sight of what she found there. Daizo cowering, shaking so bad that Root was surprised he was even still standing. And Jason… Jason with a gun pointed steadily at Daizo’s head from the other end of the room.

“What the hell is going on?” said Root and even though she wanted to believe that Jason was just pissed that Daizo had used his laptop without asking, Root knew with a sinking feeling that that wasn’t true.

“You just couldn’t leave things alone, could you, Root?” said Jason, his voice turning more harsh than she had ever heard it, so much in contrast to how he had sounded in her room when she was crying.

“Jason,” said Root and was surprised by how steady her voice sounded.

Daizo started speaking rapidly in Japanese, way too fast for Root to understand.

“Uh-uh,” Jason scolded, waving the gun at his head. “Speak English.”

But Daizo clamped his mouth shut like he had forgotten how to speak their language, like he had forgotten how to communicate, and he glanced at Root, looking so lost and alone that she wanted to reach out to him. But she didn’t dare, not with the way Jason was so freely waving a gun about, looking like he would set it off at the slightest move from either one of them.

“What did you do?” said Root, narrowing her eyes at him and ignoring the pain in her leg.

“What?” said Jason with a smirk. “Don’t you recognise my voice?”

Root felt a sudden chill run through her then as she listened to the way Jason changed the pitch of his voice, the way it came out so hard and cold, so much like the voice on the phone.

“You?” Root breathed out, the sudden revelation slamming into her. “You’re the ghost… the Machine…”

Jason laughed and it seemed to rip right through her. “I put a little something in Her code. Something so She couldn’t see me… the work that I do. Got the idea from you, Root,” he added and Root tried not to think about how he had helped her to set up the blind spot on Samaritan so that they would all be safe, so that _he_ would be safe.

She tried not to think about how long he had been playing them, playing _her,_ how she had never seen it. How she had _trusted_ him.

“But before that,” said Root, shaking her head, still not wanting to believe it. “When we helped you escape from the CIA… How?”

“I keep Jason Greenfield separate from the other work that I do,” Jason explained. “Your Machine never saw it, but I knew exactly who you were the first time we met and I knew exactly who was talking in your ear. And I knew that I had to put my work… on hold, so to speak. At least until I got access to your Machine.”

The phone started ringing then, blaring its way through the apartment and making Root jump. Jason ignored it and neither Root nor Daizo dared move to answer it. And Root wondered if he was capable of it, if Jason could really pull the trigger and end their lives. He was the ghost, he worked from a distance, never getting his hands dirty, never letting anything lead back to him. It was why he had managed to stay hidden for so long, how he managed to fool them all.

And she didn’t doubt he was capable of doing what was necessary in order to maintain that hidden persona.

Root felt such an overwhelming rush of relief then that Shaw had sent Gen away, that she wasn’t still here, caught in the crossfire.

“Gen?” Root breathed out suddenly, struggling to understand why he had taken her, why he had put an eleven year old through so much suffering.

Jason smirked. “I needed a distraction. Your girlfriend wouldn’t leave Greer alone.”

“So you kidnapped Gen?” Root snapped and Jason shrugged.

“Kept you all busy for a while. No one was supposed to get hurt,” he added, glancing at her leg regretfully as it shook with the effort to keep her standing and she wondered how much of that was a lie too.

“And what about Greer – you’re working for him?” Root asked.

“No,” Jason said, looking a little affronted, “we’re working together. Well… for now.”

“To do what exactly?” Root asked, not sure if she really wanted to know, but hearing herself ask him anyway.

“To take over the Machine,” said Jason, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I needed his company to build me something… an access nodule to control the Machine’s higher functions, make it an open system. And now it’s ready,” Jason added. “I think that’s what Daizo here found on my laptop, am I right? A message from Greer?”

Daizo nodded absently, still too shocked to say anything.

“So now,” Jason continued, and this time he moved so that the gun was trained steadily on Root, “all I need is the Machine. And you are going to tell me where She is.”

Root shook her head. “I don’t –”

“Yes, you do,” Jason snapped. “Don’t lie. You’re the Analogue Interface… or at least you were. You really expect me to believe you don’t know where Finch has been hiding Her?”

“I really don’t,” said Root.

“Fine,” said Jason, looking a little resigned as he tightened his grip on the gun in his hand. “I was going to have to kill you eventually anyway.”

“Jason,” said Root as if she could stop him.

“You and me, Root,” said Jason sadly, “we could have done a lot of great things together. I’m sorry it had to be this way.”

Root didn’t look away. She wanted Jason to look her right in the eye as he killed her. And as she stared at the gun in his hand all she could think about was Shaw and wonder, after she was dead, if Shaw would finally allow herself to feel something.

The gun went off at the same time as Daizo shouted “ _No!_ ” and stepped in front of her.

The bullet tore through his chest and he staggered backwards into Root. She reached out to him but couldn’t keep either of them upright on only one good leg, and they both went down, Daizo landing on top of her, blood gushing out of the hole in his chest. Pain seared through her leg, but Root ignored it.

“Daizo,” Root breathed out and tried to stop the blood flow, but warm red blood just covered her hands, pouring out of him so fast like a river’s current during a thunderstorm and she couldn’t make it stop.

“Stupid kid,” Jason snapped and levelled the gun at Root’s head.

A gun went off but it wasn't Jason’s and he fell forward as a bullet slammed into his shoulder, the gun flying out of his hand and skidding away from him.

Root looked up to find Shaw standing in the doorway, her gun still aimed at Jason as she breathed heavily. She stepped steadily towards him as he tried to reach for the gun and she kicked it away, far out of his reach and stepped down on his gunshot wound to stop him from moving.

“Should have covered your tracks better, Jason,” she said and Root could tell how angry she was, could hear it in the way her voice was tight and restrained, the way her hand was trembling slightly because she was trying so hard not to put a bullet between his eyes like she wanted to and instead slammed her foot in his face to knock him out cold.

But that was all like a distant memory to Root, who could only focus on Daizo bleeding in her arms.

Daizo’s eyes were open, but they were empty and distant and he wasn’t moving, so still, and she wondered absently if he was cold. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and keep him warm, keep him _safe._

Shaw knelt down opposite her, her fingers at Daizo’s neck and Root wanted to scream at her not to touch him. And after a moment, Shaw let her hand fall away, but Root just clutched onto him tighter.

“Root,” said Shaw.

But Root ignored her. All she could see was Daizo and his blood on her hands. Shaw grabbed her wrists, tried to pull her away, but Root pulled her arms out of her grip and pulled Daizo closer to her.

“Root, there’s nothing you can to do.”

Shaw was behind her suddenly, one arm around Root’s waist, her other hand reaching for her wrist again. Root tried to fight her off, but Shaw was too strong for her and she held onto Root tightly as she struggled, pressed her tight against her body.

“There’s nothing you can do,” Shaw repeated, her voice so soft (too soft, Root thought and wanted it to stop) as her lips pressed against Root’s ear. “He’s gone.”

“No,” Root cried and tried to pull out of Shaw’s grip again, but Shaw just held her tighter against her, her body so warm and alive compared to Daizo’s, so cold and lifeless. And Root stopped fighting then, wondering what was the point, and leaned back into Shaw, trying to find comfort there that she no longer had a right to.

Shaw lifted her up and Root let out a sob as Daizo’s head fell against the floor and she let Shaw half carry her back to her room, wondering where the pain in her leg had gone. Shaw made her sit on the edge of the bed as she knelt down to check on Root’s wound. The stiches hadn’t even burst and Root suddenly wanted to tear at them, wanted to _bleed_ , but Shaw grabbed her wrist again before she could reach them, moving her hand away out of reach.

“Stop,” said Shaw softly and Root didn’t try to get out of her grip. She didn’t have the energy for it, not anymore.

“I don’t know why I bother with humans,” said Root, her voice sounding distant and cold to her own ears, like a faraway echo. “All they do is disappoint you in the end.”

“Root,” said Shaw, her voice thick, like she was struggling to swallow, as she looked at Root carefully.

“Gen was wrong about you,” said Root staring past Shaw, finding that she didn’t want to look her, afraid that if she did she might break, might crack like a fragile shell. “You don’t have any feelings. It’s going to break her heart when she figures it out.”

Shaw let go of Root’s hand forcefully then and didn’t say anything.

“I envy you,” Root whispered and wished she could make it stop, wished she wouldn’t feel Daizo’s death like a sledgehammer to her gut.

Shaw said nothing and walked out and all Root could do was stare at the blood on her hands, thinking she may as well have pulled the trigger herself.


	10. Chapter 10

Shaw didn’t look away from Daizo’s body. She made herself look long and hard at what Jason had done. Then she decided not to feel anything. And it was easy to let the anger go, as if it did not exist.

She walked across the room then, finding Bear lying on his side behind the couch. He was still breathing, Shaw noted, and when she pressed her hand against his side, it felt like his ribs might be broken, like someone had kicked him hard. Shaw thought he would be okay though, and she decided to leave him for now.

Then she walked over to Jason. He was still unconscious and it looked like the bleeding in his shoulder wound had stopped. Shaw tied his hands together at the front with a zip tie, thought about fixing up his gunshot wound, but decided to let him suffer for a little bit longer.

She realised then that her phone was ringing, she didn’t know how long it had been ringing for, and she answered it wordlessly, as if someone else was carrying out the action and not her.

“Miss Shaw?” said Finch through the phone, sounding a little startled. “Are you at the safe house?”

“Do you have Greenfield?” said Reese and she realised she must be on speaker.

“Yes,” said Shaw, but her voice came out more as a croak and she wasn’t sure if they had heard her.

“We have a bit of a situation here, Miss Shaw,” Finch said. “I tried to remove Mr Greenfield’s inference from the Machine’s base code, but it seems to have set off a latent virus.”

“It’s like a trip wire,” Daniel explained. “There was no way for us to see it.”

“What they’re saying,” Reese clarified, “is that this virus can kill the Machine if we don’t stop it.”

“And Mr Greenfield might be the only person who _can_ stop it,” said Harold.

Shaw listened to them without really hearing them, finding that she didn’t care all that much about the Machine and its problems.

“Miss Shaw?” Harold asked when Shaw didn’t say anything. “Are you still there?”

Shaw still didn’t say anything, just looked at the blood seeping into the carpet.

“Shaw?” said Reese, a little more forcefully.

“Daizo’s dead,” said Shaw and was met with silence on the other end of the line. It seemed to suck everything from Shaw, left her with nothing. She didn’t like that silence, it seemed too stifling. She wanted noise and pain and screaming.

“Oh my…” said Harold eventually.

“Shaw,” said Reese slowly, “is Root okay?”

Shaw cleared her throat. “Yeah, I got here just in time.”

“Shaw –”

“But not for Daizo, though,” Shaw added and finally looked away from the blood.

“Shaw,” said Reese, “we need you to bring Greenfield.”

“I need to take care of Daizo first,” said Shaw, feeling like she owed him that much at least.

“Shaw, we don’t have time for that,” said Reese. “I’ll call Leon; he’ll take care of him.”

Shaw swallowed hard. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she said and hung up. But she didn’t make any plans to move anytime soon. She didn’t want to leave yet. She didn’t want to leave Daizo alone and the rational, logical part of her knew that it didn’t matter, that he was dead and it made no difference to him. But she still didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want to leave him alone with _Root_. She couldn’t be sure of what Root would do if she came out of her room again and saw Daizo’s body.

Because what Root had said to her had unsettled her a little, even if most of it had been true. Although, she realised rationally, that Root had been trying to hurt her, to get a reaction out of her and that she probably deserved it, but Shaw still didn't like the way the words had come out of her mouth. Like Root had closed herself off from everything, had made herself into an emotionless void. Had made herself into _her_.

And Shaw knew just how easy that could be, not to feel anything. Not to care.

Jason stirred then and Shaw moved to stand over him. She still had her gun out, just in case, and she clutched it tightly in her hand.

Jason looked up at her and laughed, but it quickly turned into a cough before he managed to pull himself together and he leaned back against the wall heavily, as if he had just sucked all the energy out of himself. "Is this the part where you threaten to kill me?" he asked, his voice casual like he didn't care what she did to him.

"I'm not going to kill you, Jason," said Shaw coolly, "you're not worth it."

"Right," said Jason mockingly, "because you're one of the good guys."

Shaw lifted her chin but didn't say anything.

"Aren't you even going to ask me why?" asked Jason.

"I don't care," said Shaw.

Jason smirked. "You've always been a horrible liar, Shaw."

Jason looked behind her then and she knew he was looking at Daizo. She didn't follow his gaze, instead she watched his face carefully, saw the way the arrogance slipped from him, the way he bowed his head as if he were ashamed of what he had done. Shaw wondered how much of it was faked and decided not to trust anything Jason said or did.

"I never meant..." Jason said quietly. "He jumped in the way."

Shaw bit her lip, because part of her was glad that he had, glad that he had taken the fatal bullet that was meant for Root.

"No one was supposed to get hurt," Jason continued. "But you all just kept pushing."

"Is that how you are justifying what you did?" Shaw asked. "By blaming it on us?"

"It was just a job," said Jason as if that explained everything.

"You've been playing a long game, Jason," said Shaw, wondering how she had never seen it, how none of them had. Not even the Machine, before it had become compromised.

"Not always," said Jason.

Shaw snorted at that. "Kidnapping kids, killing people… whatever the hell else you've been doing for your so called job... and I'm supposed to believe you haven't been playing us this whole time."

"You know," said Jason casually, "you say all those things like it's a bad thing, but how is it any different to what Root used to do?"

Shaw clenched her teeth and tightened her grip on the gun.

"She just liked to get her hands dirty more," Jason continued. "But me and Root... we are one in the same."

Shaw launched for him then, gripped the collar of his shirt and shoved him hard against the wall, bringing her face close to his.

"She is _nothing_ like you," she hissed.

"Whatever you need to tell yourself so you sleep better at night," said Jason and didn't seem at all fazed by the gun she now had shoved in his face.

"You're so full of shit, Jason," Shaw snapped and let him go.

Jason smirked at her as she stepped away from him and she knew that he was trying to get a rise out of her, trying to make her snap and do something stupid. But she wasn't about to let him win.

"Tell me how to stop the virus," she said and took careful note of the way Jason seemed to flinch slightly at that.

"Tell me where the Machine is first," said Jason.

"Not a chance in hell.”

"Well then," said Jason, "it looks like everyone's favourite all seeing God is about to be shut down for good."

"No," said Shaw, "I don't think you, or Greer, are willing to let that happen. So what's your back up plan?"

Jason smiled slightly. "You think I'm just going to tell you everything? All my dirty little secrets?"

"Yes," said Shaw tightly, clicking the safety off her gun, "I do."

Jason's smirk turned into a grin and Shaw didn't like it, the way it seemed to see right through her.

"And there it is," said Jason and Shaw narrowed her eyes at him. "That tightly coiled anger you try so hard to keep contained. Let it out, Shaw. Go on. I dare you."

Shaw curled her lip at him and didn't say anything. Didn't do anything either. She wasn't about to give him the satisfaction.

"How do you do it?" Jason asked, watching her carefully.

"Do what?" Shaw snapped.

"Pretend that you’re not feeling anything?" Jason clarified and his words seemed to hit her like a hammer.

Shaw swallowed. "Who says I'm pretending?"

But Jason didn't answer her and there was a loud knock at the door that distracted them both. Shaw told him not to move and walked over to the door, checking through the peep hole before letting Leon inside.

Leon looked at her warily for a moment before stepping through. Then he saw Jason tied up in the corner, Bear lying unconscious on the floor and, finally, his eyes landed on Daizo and he seemed to pale suddenly.

"Uh," said Leon, "what the hell's going on?"

Shaw rubbed at the nape of her neck absently but didn't answer him. She took in the sight of him dressed haphazardly in an EMT uniform and knew that Reese must have told him to get here quick. He also had a stretcher behind him and a black body bag under one arm.

"Bring that in," said Shaw, gesturing to the stretcher.

Leon did as he was told without argument and she watched him silently as he unrolled the body bag out next to Daizo.

"Um... could you..." Leon began, gesturing vaguely at the body, trying not to look. "I can't lift him by myself."

Shaw swallowed thickly before nodding her head and she helped Leon lift Daizo's body into the bag, letting out the breath she didn't know she had been holding when Leon zipped it up, covering his face. After they had lifted the body onto the stretcher, Shaw stared at the blood stain left behind for a moment before forcing herself to look away.

"Take care of him," she said quietly. "He deserved better."

Leon looked a little startled for a moment before nodding and pushing the stretcher towards the door.

"He’s got family in Japan," Jason said suddenly and Shaw turned her eyes on him sharply to find him staring down at his feet. "A sister. She'll probably want to give him a funeral."

Shaw looked at Leon. "Is there somewhere where you can..." she trailed off, not really knowing how to finish that sentence.

"There's a place I know," said Leon quietly.

Shaw waited until she was sure Leon was gone before rounding on Jason.

"Get up," Shaw snapped. Jason looked at her and waved his tied together hands at her. Shaw rolled her eyes and grabbed him by the elbow, pulling him roughly to his feet.

"You're going to tell me how to stop that virus," she said and shoved him towards the door. "And if you won't tell me, you can tell Reese."

Jason paled slightly at that and dug his heels a little harder into the floor. "Look, even if I wanted to, I can't," Jason said hurriedly.

"What do you mean?" Shaw said.

"I designed the virus so it could only be stopped using a certain device. Something I like to call an access nodule."

"Where is it?" Shaw asked.

"Greer built it for me," Jason explained. "He still has it."

"Where?" Shaw asked and wasn't sure if she believed him.

"Decima Technologies, I presume," Jason said, as if she were stupid.

"Move," Shaw said and shoved him towards the door. "And if you try anything," she warned, "the next bullet won't be a graze."

Jason held his hands up defensively and did as he was told.

Shaw allowed herself one more glance behind her.  Root's door was still closed and there hadn't been a sound from the room since Shaw had left it. Shaw didn't like to think what that might mean and she forced herself to look away, to walk out the door and not give in to the urge to go in there like she wanted to.

And it wasn't like Root was listening to her right now anyway, that she would even want to see her. Not that Shaw could blame her for that.

Jason behaved himself on their way out to the car and got into the passenger seat without complaint. Shaw kept the gun within easy reach as she drove, darting her eyes at him to make sure he wasn't up to something more often than she kept her eyes on the road. She didn't see the truck coming from their left, running a red light, until it was too late, until it slammed into her side of the car and sent them spinning.

Shaw sat dazed for a moment after the car came to a sudden halt and then she tried to reach for her gun at the same time as Jason snatched up a piece of broken glass from the caved in windshield. But her left arm wouldn't move and she couldn't grip it, darkness edging at her eyes as she watched Jason cut himself loose.

*

When Shaw regained consciousness, Jason was gone and there was a pounding in her head, so rapid and loud it felt like her brain was going to explode. She closed her eyes, could feel wetness on her forehead and tried to lift her arm up to check. Her left arm still wouldn't move and she used her right hand to check it gingerly, felt her shoulder and realised it was dislocated. She rubbed at her forehead and drew back blood, knew she had a concussion and tried to keep her eyes open. It was hard and she let out groan as pain shot through her entire body, watched without moving as a figure approached the car, thought she could see a gun in his hand.

A shot rang out but no fresh pain hit her and she realised that the other guy had went down. Someone was calling her name, but it was like she was underwater and she couldn't hear them properly. Then Fusco's face appeared at the passenger side door and he grabbed onto her good arm, pulling her out of the car.

Shaw cradled her bad arm and slid to the ground, leaning against the car as she tried to get her breathing under control. "Greenfield?"

Lionel shrugged. "There was no one else here."

Shaw realised then that Jason must have planned this ambush somehow, although she didn't know how or when, but she was sure the guy lying unconscious on the ground had to be a Decima agent.

"How did you..." she began, every word out of her mouth sending a fresh wave of pain through her head, like someone was banging a nail in, and it left her feeling dizzy and sick.

"Reese called me," Fusco explained. "He said you stormed off without a word and thought you could use some backup. Are you alright?"

"Not really," she said faintly. "We need to get back to the safe house."

"I can't leave the scene," said Fusco agitatedly. "I just shot a guy."

"Lionel," Shaw warned through gritted teeth.

"Fine," he said and helped her to her feet. She shrugged him off though and walked to his car by herself, trying not to stumble over her own feet and pushing past the faintness that threatened to take over her.

Fusco drove them back silently and when they reached the safe house it was empty and dark. Root's door was open and Shaw realised with a sinking feel that she was gone.

She went in to double check though, but there was no sign of her, the room feeling too empty and cold. Shaw knew instinctively where she must have gone. The only place she could go if she wanted to get revenge.

Shaw went back into the living room to find Fusco standing over the drying blood stain on the carpet. "You want to tell me what the hell is going on?" Lionel asked.

But Shaw ignored his queries and sat heavily on the couch. "I need you to fix my arm. It's dislocated."

Fusco looked at her sharply. "I don't-"

"I'll talk you through it," she said tightly. "Grab that bottle of scotch." She gestured with her head to the drinks cabinet over by the far wall. Fusco complied, bringing back the bottle and a glass.

"You know I don't drink anymore, right?" he said.

"It's for me, dumbass," said Shaw, snatching the bottle out of his hand and, not bothering with a glass, pulled the lid off with her teeth and took a long swallow.

She talked Lionel through popping her shoulder back into place, grinding her teeth together through the pain until it was done. Lionel had a sheen of sweat on his forehead and he looked at her warily as though scared he had done it wrong.

"It's fine," she said to appease him, and rolled her left shoulder back to prove her point. It hurt like hell, would probably be sore for a while, but she ignored it for it now.

"I really think you should go to the ER," said Fusco.

"I'm fine," Shaw said tightly and reached in her pocket for her phone. She stared at its cracked face for a moment, realised it was totally fucked and tossed it aside. "Give me your phone," she said and held out her hand.

Lionel handed it over with a sigh. "At least put a band aid or something on that cut."

"Through there," said Shaw, gesturing to the room behind him. Lionel went to look as Shaw dialled and she was surprised when the line picked up on the other end.

"Root?" Shaw said harshly. "Where the hell are you?"

"Jason got away from you, didn't he?"

Root's voice was cold and distant and Shaw knew it had nothing to do with the connection.

"He's going to destroy the Machine," Root continued as if she were the only person in the world that could stop him.

"And how far do you think you're going to get on one leg?" Shaw snapped.

"I have to do this," said Root. "I have to stop him."

"Root, wait," said Shaw, forcing her voice to come out softer. "Please just wait for me."

But Root had already hung up.

Shaw tightened her grip on Fusco's phone, trying to think, but the throbbing in her head was making it difficult. She didn't even realise Fusco has reappeared until he was wiping the blood off her forehead with a damp cloth. She batted his hand away when he tried to put a band aid on her cut though and shot him a glare.

"I need to borrow your car," she said. Lionel rolled his eyes but handed over the keys without comment. Shaw took them and stood up, feeling light headed for a moment. Lionel looked at her with concern but she told him, for what felt like the hundredth time, that she was fine.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Fusco asked.

"No," said Shaw and rummaged amongst the crap on the dining table for a scrap piece of paper. She scribbled down an address and handed it to him. "Go here. I think Reese might need your help sooner rather than later."

Lionel looked at her sceptically. "You and Miss Limps-a-lot are hardly going to get very far when you've only got one good arm."

"I don't need my left arm to shoot," said Shaw and didn't give him any more time to protest as she left hurriedly.

*

Shaw knew there was only one place Root would go and she stared up at the Decima Technologies building feeling an eerie sense of déjà vu. They had been here before, her and Root, and she wondered if this time Root would be able to stop herself from killing Greer and Jason when it came down to it. Not that either of their deaths would be great loss, Shaw thought, but she knew that if Root did it, if she killed them in cold blood, that she wouldn’t be able to come back from it.

And Shaw decided then that she didn’t want that, that she would kill them both herself, just so Root wouldn’t have to. Shaw would do that much for her at least, the only thing that she felt like she could do.

The lobby was dark when Shaw entered it, her gun trained in front of her and she focused past the pain in her left shoulder, focused on what she was doing and the job at hand. She didn’t know how long she had been unconscious in the car, didn’t know how much of a head start Root had on her and hoped she wasn’t too late.

Emergency lights flashed overhead, sending out a dull green glow intermittently to reveal bodies scouring the ground. About six or seven security guards, Shaw thought, and bent down to the nearest one. He wasn’t dead; Shaw felt the faint pulse at his neck and took her flashlight out to examine him more closely. It didn’t look like he had been shot anywhere and when Shaw stood up and moved over to examine one of the other ones, something crunched underneath her foot. Shaw bent down to pick it up, studying it closely under the glare of her flashlight. It looked like a dart from a tranquilizer gun and Shaw felt both relieved and annoyed at the same time. Relieved that Root wasn’t taking more lethal measures and annoyed that she was arming herself with something that didn’t take immediate effect at neutralising her targets.

But she didn’t have time to think about that now and followed the trail of bodies down a corridor and around towards a bank of elevators. She was met with the site of a dart gun trained on her as Root sat slumped against a wall, sweat pouring off her, the gun shaking in her hand as she struggled to keep her arm outstretched.

Shaw lowered her gun first and could tell that Root was in pain but trying hard to fight it. Shaw moved over to her as Root let the dart gun fall to the side. Shaw wrapped one arm around her waist tightly and lifted Root to her feet.

“Didn’t I tell you to wait?” Shaw scolded as Root whimpered in pain, putting her arm around Shaw’s shoulder and gripping it tightly. Shaw ground her teeth down as pain stabbed through her bad shoulder and tried not to let it show.

“Since when do I ever listen to you?” Root said breathlessly.

Shaw grunted and moved them over to the elevators, jabbing the call button with her finger with more force than necessary.

“They’re on the top floor,” said Root. Shaw could hear the pain in her voice, imagined how much effort it must have took her to take out the seven security guards with a bad leg and armed only with a tranquilizer. Shaw didn't know if that was stupid or brave, but she felt mildly impressed all the same.

Shaw shuffled them inside the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. The doors dinged closed behind them and Shaw moved Root over to lean against one side of the elevator. Root's hands gripped onto a railing, her knuckles turning white with the effort to keep herself upright. Shaw stared at her for a moment, their faces so close that they were almost touching. Shaw felt like she should say something, but she didn't know what, instead she cleared her throat awkwardly and let Root go when she was sure Root was alright, that she could manage to stay standing by herself.

Shaw leaned back against the far wall and the elevator felt suddenly small, too small, like it was going to engulf her whole. And there was nowhere to look, no way for her to ignore Root as she struggled to get her breathing under control, as she tried not to let out a gasp of pain that Shaw knew was due to the leg wound she was putting too much strain on.

Shaw thought about saying something then, about scolding her for being so reckless with her health. But she knew that Root would only roll her eyes at her. Or maybe she wouldn't even give Shaw that much, not anymore. Maybe she would just ignore her all together.

"You can't kill them," said Shaw quietly and watched Root carefully, the way she had her eyes firmly shut against the pain, the way her hands clenched around the rail so tightly like she was holding onto the last shreds of life. The way her left leg shook under the strain of a still healing gunshot wound. Then she imagined all the other injuries she couldn't see, Root's weakened heart - not only Control's leftover gift, but because of all the things Shaw had done to her too.

Shaw looked away then and wondered where the hell things had gone so wrong.

"I know," Root mumbled. "But I can't let them destroy the Machine. She's all that I have left."

Shaw glanced at her, found Root staring down at her feet. "That's not true."

"Isn't it?" she asked. "Harold's going to make sure that Gen never sees me again and I can't really blame him for that... she's better off not knowing me anyway. And you..." Root shook her head and didn't say anything else. She didn't have to. And Shaw found she couldn't look away, couldn't hide from what she had done.

"I'm not good for you, Root," said Shaw quietly, as if that could explain everything.

Root laughed, but it was devoid of all humour, empty and cold. "And I'm good for you? Neither of us are good, Shaw. Isn't that why we were drawn to each other in the first place?"

Shaw didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say, and wished the damn elevator would hurry up and reach the top floor.

But Root’s words had a ring of truth to them all the same, a truth that Shaw didn’t think she could run from.

It seemed to take forever, but eventually the elevator came to a stop, the doors sliding opening. Shaw still had her gun out and she cleared the area before indicating for Root to follow her out. Root looked a bit unsteady on her feet for a moment, and Shaw wasn't sure if she was even going to be able to make it out of the elevator let alone to where Jason and Greer were hiding. But when Shaw reached out an arm to give her a hand, it was met with a hard look and Root pushed herself off the rail, limping out of the elevator with heavy steps.

Shaw reached down for the spare gun in her ankle holster and handed it to Root. "Here," she said. "Just don't aim for centre mass."

Root took the gun without comment, but there was a slight quirk to her lips that Shaw wasn't sure what to make of. Shaw ignored it and took the lead, heading down the corridor and keeping her eyes trained for any sign of Jason or Greer.

She went slower than she would have liked, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible, but she was conscious of Root's leg, of how she took one step when Shaw took five and Shaw made sure to slow her pace so that Root was just behind her, close enough so that Shaw could shove her out of harm’s way if she had to.

Shaw checked some of the rooms; large, open spaces that looked like a cross between a laboratory and a workshop.

"This is where Decima develop their new prototypes," Root explained. "It's probably where they built Jason's access nodule."

"Explain to me again what this stupid nodule thing is," said Shaw.

"Harold built the Machine as a closed system," said Root. "No one can control Her higher functions. Unlike Samaritan, which was designed to be able to specifically search for individuals if you asked it to. The Machine can't do that. But I imagine Jason designed the nodule so that he could."

"Well what about this virus then?" asked Shaw. “Nobody is going to be control anything if it wipes out the Machine.”

"Jason must have set up the virus so that only the nodule could neutralise it," said Root.

"So if we don't get our hands on this nodule thing," said Shaw slowly, "we could lose the Machine for good."

"Yes," said Root and Shaw didn’t like the way her voice seemed to crack at that.

They reached the end of the corridor and the last room they had yet to check. Shaw tightened her grip on her gun, glanced at Root before slowly opening the door and stepping through it. It was dark inside and Shaw reached for her flashlight only to be blinded suddenly by the lights coming on overhead. She blinked rapidly and when her eyes focused again, Greer was in front of her, and gun pointed steadily at her.

"Drop it," Shaw ordered.

"No," said Greer smiling at her. "I think you'll be dropping yours."

He looked past her then and Shaw heard Root cry out. Shaw whipped around, knowing it was stupid to put her back to Greer but she didn't care. Jason had one arm around Root’s neck, the other with a gun pointed at her head.

"Put in on the ground," said Jason and dug the gun a little deeper into the side of Root's head to show he was serious.

Shaw did as he asked and didn't make a move when Greer stepped over and picked the gun up. She could have taken him out, but she knew Root was in no condition to fight Jason off.

"Move over there," Jason snapped, gesturing with the gun wildly. Shaw moved where he had indicated, felt Greer push the barrel of her own gun into the small of her back and gritted her teeth.

Greer made her sit in an old office chair and zip tied her wrists to the arms and she watched silently as Jason did the same with Root and moved her chair so that they were facing each other.

"Now," said Jason, tucking his gun into the waistband of his jeans at the front. "You're going to tell me where Finch is hiding the Machine."

Shaw clenched her jaw and didn't say anything, instead turned her attention to Greer, watched as he perched himself against one of the desks.

"How's the kneecaps?" she asked him.

Greer smiled. "There are ways of making you talk, Miss Shaw."

Shaw snorted. "What are you going to do? Torture me?"

"Mr Greenfield?" said Greer, never taking his eyes off her. Shaw glanced at Jason then as he moved over to a group of work benches. He rummaged around some of the tools before picking something up and moving back towards them. Jason held a trimming knife in his hand tightly and light reflected off the blade as he extracted it, looking sharp and deadly.

"I don't care what you do to me," said Shaw, who wasn't afraid of few cuts and scrapes.

"No," said Jason, "but you care about what happens to her."

Shaw swallowed thickly as Jason moved towards Root, standing behind her chair and ducking his head down so he could mutter something in her ear.

Root looked at her then and Shaw could tell what she was thinking, knew that Root didn't care what happened to her as long as Jason never got his hands on the Machine.

"I'm going to ask you one more time, Shaw," said Jason. "Tell me where the Machine is."

Root nodded slightly, just enough for Shaw to see it and Shaw knew there was nothing that she could do. She clenched her hands into fists and struggled with her bonds, but they were tight and wouldn't budge, just dug into her wrists, making them red and raw the more she struggled with them.

"No," said Shaw and didn't look away as Jason dug the blade into Root's flesh.


	11. Chapter 11

Jason got bored of the knife quickly. Or maybe he was just squeamish, the cuts he inflicted on Root never seeming to go that deep, drawing blood but not enough for her to lose consciousness.

And all the while Shaw never once took her eyes off her.

She made herself watch, wishing it was her in Root’s place, wishing that she could somehow take away the pain that danced in Root’s eyes like a manic gleam.

But she wasn’t too worried about Jason’s ministrations, at least not until he decided to switch from the blade and brought out a taser. Maybe he knew how much damage it could do beneath the surface, or maybe he thought he was inflicting an odd sick sense of irony, using Root’s favoured choice of weapon on her. But every time he brought it against her skin, every time he sent a fresh current of electricity through her, Shaw wondered if it would be the last, if it would be the one that would stop Root’s heart.

Shaw had been counting, and after the seventh shock sent Root’s body shuddering, Root ended up slumped in her seat, head lolling listlessly as she lost consciousness. Shaw tugged at her bonds, knowing it was useless, but struggling all the same, savouring the way the hard plastic cut into her flesh, making her bleed. She counted how long it took for Root to wake up. Too long. And she wasn’t sure how much more of this Root’s body could take.

Jason glanced at her, the look he sent her way was distant, as if he weren’t responsible for his actions and she hated the way he kept caressing Root, kept muttering things in her ear, like he was apologising, like he had any right to touch her. Shaw clenched her fists tighter, dug her nails deep into her palms and knew what he wanted from her. But Root’s eyes kept telling her to keep her mouth shut. And she did, she kept her silence. Used the pain in her wrists, her shoulder, her head, used it all to fuel her anger and maintain her silence and used it to give her the strength not to give in and give Jason exactly what he wanted, no matter how much she wanted to give it to him with every fresh wave of pain and suffering he exacted on Root.

“Tell me where the Machine is,” Jason said, holding the taser up to Root’s neck.

“Jason,” said Root, her voice weak and cracked, like it struggled to get past her lips and into the air, “please.”

But Jason ignored her pleas and continued to stare at Shaw long and hard.

Shaw bit her lip and forced herself to look as Jason sent an eighth jolt of electricity through Root’s body. Root eventually stopped convulsing, her hands clenched tightly, sweat beading every inch of her bare skin, mingling with the blood from Jason’s ministrations and Shaw knew she was struggling to keep her eyes open this time.

“You don’t have to do this,” Root said, her voice slurred as she looked at Jason, peering at him as if the room were dark and she couldn’t see his face properly.

“Shut up,” Jason snapped.

“Please,” Root begged.

“ _Shut up,”_ Jason hissed, like he couldn’t bear to hear the weakness in her voice. “The only person who should be talking right now is _her._ ” He looked at Shaw then, his stare hard and cold and Shaw knew that his patience was thinning, knew that he was running out of time. That whatever virus he had unleashed upon the Machine would soon consume it. And when that happened, Shaw knew that neither she nor Root were going to make it out of this building alive.

“I’m getting bored of this, Mr Greenfield,” said Greer.

It was the first time he had spoken since Jason had started and up until then he had remained silent upon his perch, watching indifferently. Shaw glanced at him; he looked bored and impatient and she wondered if he too knew how little time they had left until the Machine was lost for good.

“End this,” said Greer.

Jason froze for a moment; it was subtle, but Shaw saw it and she wondered if he had thought about how far he would have to go here, if he felt he was really capable of it. But then she remembered Daizo, his face pale and his blood drenching the floor and she knew that he was. Jason may not like getting his hands dirty, but when he was desperate enough, if it was a necessity, he would.

Shaw was the one that froze then, stilling her arms against the struggle to get free and she watched as Jason tossed the taser aside, as he took the trimming knife back out of his pocket and walked around to the back of Root’s chair. Shaw wondered if he had positioned himself so he could look Shaw in the eye as he did it, or if he was just trying to avoid looking into Root’s.

Jason dug the tip of the blade into Root’s neck and Shaw clenched her teeth as blood trickled down Root’s throat, a thin red line looking so bright and bold against Root’s skin, like it didn’t belong there. Root closed her eyes briefly before opening them again, looking directly at Shaw and Shaw felt like she was struggling to breathe, like something was blocking her throat, constricting it and squeezing it tight.

Shaw saw Jason’s wrist flick at the same time as someone shouted, “Stop,” and it took Shaw a few moments to realise it was her, her voice unrecognisable to her own ears, faraway and crispy.

“I’ll tell you where the Machine is,” Shaw said, but it was like someone else was speaking, taking control of her vocal cords, making them work without her permission. “Just leave her alone.”

Jason dropped the blade away from Root’s neck and smirked, but there was a hint of something else flickering in his eyes, like he was more than a little relieved that he didn’t have to go through with it.

Root was shaking her head, silently telling Shaw not to say anything. Shaw ignored her and looked away.

“Well?” said Greer. He had moved from his perch, stepping over to Shaw slightly and watching her carefully, like he was afraid this was some trick and she would suddenly jump at him.

Shaw looked at him, because it was easier than looking at Root and Shaw wasn't sure what she would find there if she did. But she knew, that whatever it was, she would give in to it, she would do whatever Root wanted, even if it cost Root her life. So she kept her eyes carefully trained away.

"Let her go first," said Shaw and this time her voice sounded more like her own, guttural and low and threatening even though she was in no position to be threatening anyone.

"You misunderstand us, Miss Shaw," said Greer, standing up straighter and staring down at her like one of those stern British schoolmasters she had seen in movies and she was the misbehaving student who was cowering underneath his reprimand. "You have no bargaining power here," Greer continued. "Now where is the Machine?"

When Shaw didn't say anything, too busy thinking about Harold and Daniel, how vulnerable they would be to a full on Decima assault, Greer gestured to Jason and she saw him move towards Root again. Harold and Daniel may not be able to hold their own against Decima, but she knew Reese was there, could take out an entire Decima trigger team without breaking a sweat and used that knowledge to justify opening her mouth. Her voice had taken on that distant quality again as she reeled off the address and her eyes found Root's. Shaw couldn't hide from the betrayal that she found there, as if she were the one responsible with tampering with the Machine in the first place, for putting them in this position. And maybe she partly was, maybe Shaw could have prevented all of this if she had pursued her concerns about the Machine sooner, if she had told Harold or Reese, if she had stopped ignoring whatever was going on with Root. But Shaw hadn’t done any of that, she hadn’t wanted to deal with it so she had ignored it and pretended everything was fine when it wasn’t and now here they were.

Greer took his phone out and started dialling. "Mr Greenfield, as soon as my men have verified the Machine's location... Kill them both."

Jason smirked and moved towards Shaw. "I think I'm going to start with you."

_Good_ , Shaw thought and waited for him to get closer.

He held the knife loosely in one hand, careless and arrogant as he sauntered towards her. He still had the gun tucked in the front of his pants and Greer was unarmed, she thought, but still within easy reach of her own gun from when they had disarmed her earlier. Shaw took note of all this, her brain carefully calculating her options. There weren't many, but if Jason got close enough...

Shaw kept one eye on Greer; he was still busy on the phone and Shaw knew she would only have seconds to do something if she was going to do anything at all without getting herself killed. She only had one chance to get them both out of this alive.

Shaw waited until Jason was close enough, schooled her features so he wouldn't notice she was up to something until it was too late and lifted her leg up, placing a well-aimed foot hard into his groin. Jason groaned loudly and leaned forward, clutching at himself in pain. Shaw grabbed the knife out of his hand and she had her arm free in one deft move, dropping the knife quickly onto her a lap and reaching for the gun at Jason's waist before he realised what was happening.

"Rule 101 of interrogation," said Shaw smugly, "restrain all limbs. Just in case."

Now unarmed and defenceless, Jason staggered backwards holding his hands up defensively. Shaw saw Greer move out of the corner of her eye and turned her attention into him, ordering him not to move, but it was enough of a distraction for Jason to make an escape, dashing out of the door that they had come in. Shaw sent off a few wild rounds and missed, cursing under her breath but not entirely surprised that he had made a run for it the first chance he could get.

Shaw quickly turned her attention back to Greer. "Call off your men."

Greer just smiled at her and Shaw quickly let off two shots, taking out Greer's kneecaps for the second time before his lips could even finish curving upwards. Shaw waited a moment to be sure he wasn't about to move then quickly dropped the gun to her lap and picked up the trimming knife, cutting her other wrist free.

Shaw quickly got up and moved over to Root. She had lost consciousness again and Shaw didn't like how fast her pulse was when she checked it. Shaw let her fingers linger for a moment, savouring the feel of the heat radiating off Root's skin, the erratic beat of her pulse that let Shaw know that she was alive. Her movements when she stood straighter were reluctant and Shaw kept her eyes on Root as she moved towards Greer again. She snatched up the cell phone that had fallen out of his hand and quickly dialled, moving towards Root once again. The line picked up almost immediately.

"Reese," said Shaw, not giving him time to say hello. "You're about to have company."

"What's going on?" asked Reese.

"We're at Decima," Shaw explained, kneeling down in front of Root as her eyes fluttered open briefly. Shaw cut her loose with one hand as she continued to talk to Reese. "Greer knows where the Machine is. He sent a team after you."

"How?" asked Reese but Shaw didn't answer him, just dropped the knife once she had cut Root free, letting her fingers rest lightly against Root's wrist, using it as a reminder that Root was okay.

"What about the access nodule?" Daniel asked, his voice sounding strained as it came over the line.

"What about it?" asked Shaw. She had almost forgotten about it during Jason's little torture session.

"Do you have it?" Daniel asked, a little more forcefully.

Shaw shrugged, realised that he couldn't see her and then said, "What does it look like?"

"Uh," said Daniel, "probably like a laptop but with some sort box or attachment on the side."

Shaw glanced around the work shop. There were bits of computers and other tech all over the place, but when her eyes landed on the bench that Greer had been using as a makeshift chair, she saw a white laptop with a rectangular box sticking out of the side.

"I think I found it," said Shaw.

"Good," said Daniel, "I think we might be able to set it up remotely from our end and stop the virus."

"How?" asked Shaw, regretting it almost immediately as Daniel stared reeling off a set of instructions that left Shaw's head spinning. "Daniel," she snapped and he shut up. "Would Root know how to do that?"

"Um, yes. Probably," said Daniel.

"Root's with you?" Reese asked, sounding like he knew exactly how Decima had found them and wasn't happy about it. But Shaw ignored him again.

"I'll call you back," she said as Root started to stir again and this time managed to keep her eyes open. "Hey," said Shaw, letting her hand drop from Root's wrist, "don't try to move."

"You shouldn't have done that," said Root thickly, like she was struggling to speak and she peered at Shaw with defiance in her eyes and a little of something else. Shaw looked away, glancing down at Root's wrists, raw and bloody from when her body had struggled against the taser. "My life doesn't matter," Root continued and Shaw looked up at her sharply.

"You idiot. It does matter," Shaw blurted, but there wasn't any harshness to her voice. She sounded tired and defeated and Shaw wasn't sure where it was coming from. "It matters to me."

Root looked at her steadily and whatever hint of betrayal had been flashing in her eyes before quickly slipped away, replaced with something else that Shaw found she couldn't take for very long, like it was burning her with more heat the longer she allowed Root to keep looking at her.

"Come on," said Shaw, gripping Root by the elbow and helping her to her feet. "You've got work to do."

*

Root couldn't stop her fingers from trembling; making it difficult for her to type anything into Jason's access nodule and it was taking her an insane amount of effort just to keep her eyes open. Daniel talked her through what she had to do from her end. He was patient with how slow she was being, but she was conscious of how little time they had left and Shaw hovering over her shoulder once she had tied up Greer wasn't helping. Something was different about her now, Root thought. Where she had expected coldness and distance, Root found an odd warmness to Shaw's touch, gentle in the way that she checked Root's wounds, as if she thought Root was some fragile piece of china that would break at the slightest touch. Root wasn't sure what to do with it, how she should feel and what it meant, how they could go from a break up to whatever this was. She did wonder briefly if Shaw was messing with her head, if she could be that callous. And she tried not to think about how Shaw had so readily given up the location of the Machine, put Harold and Reese and Daniel all at risk just to save Root's life.

She didn't think she deserved it, to have her life saved, to still be breathing when Daizo lay cold and still, never to move again.

"Hey," said Shaw softly, nudging Root slightly and Root realised she must have lost consciousness again. "Still with me?"

Shaw smiled at her slightly and Root brushed off her concerns and turned away.

"How are we doing, Daniel?" said Root with a coldness that wasn't for him. Root could feel Shaw move away from her slightly and hoped that she had hurt Shaw as much as Shaw had hurt her, but doubted she had succeeded.

"Waiting for you to patch me in," said Daniel, sounding unsure of himself. She realised then that they had already been over this, that he had explained to her what to do and she had started coding before she had spaced out and forgotten what she was supposed to be doing. She could hear gunfire from his end of the line and knew that whatever Decima teams Greer had sent had found them.

“Everything okay over there?” asked Shaw, managing to keep the indifference in her voice and Root wondered if she felt at all guilty about the situation she had just put them in.

“I think so,” said Daniel, although his voice sounded shaky as the gunfire continued relentlessly.

“Detective Fusco has joined us,” said Harold, “although we appear to be rather outnumbered.”

Root looked at Shaw, watched the way she carefully avoided her eyes and didn’t say anything in response to Harold’s comment. But they both felt it, Root thought, the guilt that came with knowing that they were in that situation because of them and Root felt the guilt eat away at her, felt it just as bad as the thought of Daizo bleeding in her arms because he had jumped in front of a bullet meant for her. How many more of them would have to take a bullet because of her? How many more of them would have to suffer and die? Her own suffering she could live with, but not theirs. Not now. Despite everything, despite whatever issues she had with Harold, despite whatever latent dislike still lingered between her and John, she still couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to either of them because of her. And Daniel…Daniel, the only one of her team left that she hadn’t broken or been betrayed by and she wondered if he felt Daizo’s death and Jason’s betrayal as much as she did, if it sat in him like a heavy weight, slowly realising toxins and poisons, sending out a sharp stab of pain whenever she remembered how foolish she had been not to have seen it coming.

Jason's nodule was elegant and sleek in design, but its interface left a lot to be desired and Root was finding it difficult to navigate. Root found the code she had been working on, realised it was a jumble of letters and numbers that made no sense and had to start again. Root clenched her fists in annoyance, dug her nails into her skin in an effort to stop the trembling, knowing that Shaw was watching her carefully.

"You sure you can do this?" Shaw asked.

Root ignored her and began typing, slowly and deliberately until she was done, sweat dripping from her face, head aching and her body feeling like it was about to tear itself apart. She patched Daniel through and he took control of the nodule remotely.

"This thing is amazing," Daniel exclaimed, "this isn’t just to get into the Machine. It’s a remote hacking device to get access to any computer system, even if it’s not networked."

Root was barely listening to him. She slouched back in her seat, struggling to keep her eyes open, her heart racing worse than ever before.

Shaw's hand gripped her wrist tightly and when Root made herself focus, Shaw was suddenly kneeling in front of her with more concern on her face than Root had ever seen.

“What?" said Root, trying to sound annoyed but it just came out slurred, like she had been drinking hard liquor for hours.

"You passed out again," said Shaw and the neutral mask was back in place, like the concern had never been there at all.

"I'm fine," said Root, trying to sit up a little straighter and failing, her arms too weak to push her body weight up.

She watched Shaw bite her lip and wondered what acerbic comment she was trying to suppress. Root wanted to say something harsh and cold, something that would drive Shaw away, but she couldn't muster the energy. Instead she watched as the concern slipped from Shaw's face, turning into confusion and it took Root a moment to realise why.

"Is that your phone?" Shaw asked and Root batted her hand away when she tried to help her find it.

Root slipped the phone out of her back pocket with still trembling fingers, knew she wouldn't be able to get them under control enough to answer it and reluctantly let Shaw take it from her.

"It's Gen," said Shaw frowning.

Root felt panic spike in her then. Gen knew only to call if there was an emergency. But the kid had never been one to follow Shaw's stupid rule and she did wonder if she was just calling Root to talk, thinking that she was still holed up in bed with a leg wound, immobile and bored. She didn't know about Daizo yet, didn't know what Jason had done, how he had betrayed them all. And the panic just seemed to settle itself within her more, like an extra layer underneath her skin, insulating her and making it difficult to breathe or think or do anything.

Root watched Shaw carefully as she answered and knew that her fears were well founded when she saw the colour drain from Shaw's face. She could only hear Shaw's end of the conversation and Root wanted to scream at her to put it on speaker, to let her hear what was going on, let her talk to Gen so that she could reassure her that everything was going to be okay.

"It's okay, kiddo," said Shaw. Then her whole demeanour changed and whatever gentleness had been in her voice quickly disappeared, turning it cold and harsh. "You lay one finger on her and I swear I'll-"

But whatever Shaw was going to say was cut off by whoever was on the other end of the line. And Root didn't need to guess, didn't need to ask to know who it was. She had forgotten that Jason had been there when they had sent Gen away with Zoe and Root had foolishly allowed herself to believe that Gen was safe. She must have passed out for longer periods of time than she had realised and Root just added this to the list of things that had gone so wrong tonight that had been her fault.

Shaw listened to whatever Jason was saying and then hung up, clutching the phone tightly in her hand and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Jason's got Gen," she explained. "He wants the nodule."

Root frowned. Jason would never be able to take control of the Machine in time before the virus destroyed Her completely. But then she remembered what Daniel had said, about the nodule being able to gain access to non-networked systems and knew that was what Jason wanted it back for. It would certainly increase the scope of the work he could do as the ghost, not to mentioned how much a device like this would sell for on the black market; hacking without the requirement of basic coding skills would be a valuable thing indeed and Root wasn't at all surprised that Jason had designed it. He had always been good at getting into things, and the nodule was designed to get into anything, including the Machine.

Shaw made to grab for the nodule, but Root reached out a hand to stop her.

"Wait," said Root, "we still need to get rid of the virus."

Shaw clenched her teeth. "I don't care about the stupid Machine."

"Please," said Root. Even though she couldn't bear the thought of something happening to Gen, she couldn't lose the Machine either. Not now, not after everything. "Just give me ten minutes."

Shaw looked at her darkly and Root knew she was sceptical about Root's ability to do anything in that short space of time. Root doubted it to, but she was determined to try and she thought with Daniel and Harold's help, she might just be able to do it, might manage to save the Machine before She was lost forever.

"You have five," said Shaw tightly and stood back to let Root work.

It took her seven and only because Daniel's fingers were doing most of the typing on his end, Root watching the nodule's screen as he slowly eradicated the virus, restoring the Machine's original code before Jason had corrupted it.

"I think that's it," said Daniel when the virus had been completely removed. But Root didn't need him to confirm it, the Machine was doing that all by Herself and suddenly there was the familiar sound of the Machine in her ear again, static and Morse code and a mixture of random numbers as the Machine tried to get Her bearings.

_Can. You. Hear. Me?_

"There you are," Root whispered as the Machine continued to talk to her, told her how many Decima agents were on their way up here now on the elevator, how Jason was almost at the place where he had told Shaw they were to make the exchange, Gen tied up in the back seat of the car, but otherwise unharmed. How Zoe was lying unconscious on her apartment floor, but unlikely to have any serious injuries. She told Root how many Decima agents were still trying to gain access to Her servers, the odds of Reese and Fusco being able to take them out without getting themselves killed (they were low, Root noted and quickly sent Daniel and Harold an alternative escape route out of the building.) She also told Root the status of her own health, the rate of her heart beat, how well her leg was healing and how much damage she had done to it on her journey over here. But Root ignored that and focused on the nodule on front of her, began typing more code as the Machine informed her that Daniel and Harold were making their escape, Reese and Fusco not far behind them.

"Root," said Shaw warningly, stepping closer.

"I just need one more minute," said Root, not taking her eyes off what she was doing.

"What are you doing, Miss Groves?" Harold asked, sounding concerned. His breathing was erratic as he hurried to out run the Decima agents on his tail.

"Making sure that no one can infiltrate the Machine again," Root informed him absently, her fingers a blur as she continued to type code that would set the Machine free, allow Her to overcome the servers that trapped Her like a cage.

"Are you doing what I think you’re doing?" Daniel asked, sounding surprised, and maybe a little intrigued. But Root ignored him, ignored Harold and his concerns too, ignored the way Shaw was hovering at her elbow, silently urging her to hurry up. She even ignored the Machine who tried to tell her it wasn't necessary. Root focused on the code in front of her; it didn't take her long until she was done, and then she left the Machine to decide what to do with it next, a gift for all the times the Machine had saved _her_. It was the only gift that Root could think to give an all seeing artificial intelligence, but she gave it to Her anyway, gave the Machine the ability to set Herself free if that's what She wanted.

Root shut the nodule and turned to Shaw. "We need to take the back stairs."

Shaw snatched up the nodule, tightening her grip on her gun as she led them out of the workshop. Root felt a little lightheaded as she stood up. Her entire body ached, and she rested both hands on the work bench in front of her, leaning heavily as she struggled to keep her breathing under control.

"Are you okay?" Shaw asked, pausing at the doorway and shooting Root that look of concern again.

Root ignored her and pushed herself straighter, forced herself to limp across the room and tried not to let it show how much it hurt. She could tell by the look on Shaw's face that she had failed. But Root ignored that too and this time she took the lead, directing Shaw to the back stairwell that the Machine told her to take. "We have forty-five seconds before the elevator reaches this floor," Root tossed over her shoulder when Shaw didn't move. "You don't have enough ammunition to take out every Decima agent. So let's move," she added more forcefully and it was more for herself than for Shaw.

Shaw seemed to snap out of whatever trance she was in and quickly followed her, sticking close to Root's side as they pushed the stairwell door open.

"What about Greer?" Shaw asked, taking the lead again and checking they were clear before gesturing for Root to follow her down the stairs.

"What about him?" said Root. As far as she was concerned, Greer could bleed out from the knees. Although the Machine told her his injuries weren't serious. "Unless you're willing to carry him down all eighty floors... leave him."

Shaw scowled, but didn't argue and Root understood her reluctance to let him get away once again. And this time, Root doubted planting drugs at his place was going to cut it to keep him out of trouble. But the Machine already seemed to be formulating a plan, chattering incessantly in Root's ear, so fast that Root was sure the Machine was trying to explain about four things at once to her. But Root didn't mind. It was familiar and comforting and she hadn't realised how much she relied on the Machine until She was gone. How much she had missed Her.

They had only made it down three floors when Root had to stop, gripping the railing tightly as her vision swam in front of her, the world spinning like she was on a merry-go-round gone wild. She thought she was going to throw up, the nausea biting at her to get her attention. Root closed her eyes and she didn't realise Shaw had moved back to her side until she felt her hand grip her forearm.

"Root," said Shaw hurriedly. "You need to keep moving."

"I can't," Root said, shaking her head.

"Yes you can," said Shaw and squeezed Root's arm tightly to force her to move.

"It's taking too long," Root said, thinking about all those steps still to go, how her leg was burning already with the effort, how her heart was racing so fast like it was trying to escape her body. "We're not going to reach the meeting point in time."

"So we'll be a little late," Shaw said. "I don't think Jason's capable of killing a kid."

"You don't know that," Root mumbled and couldn't get the image of Daizo out of her head.

"Yeah, maybe I don't," Shaw agreed. "But I'm _not_ leaving you. So get moving."

Shaw didn't give Root time to protest and all but shoved Root down the next flight of stairs. Root was unsteady on her feet, but Shaw kept her grip tight and somehow they made it down another five floors before Root had to stop again.

"Three guys are about to burst through that door," Root said, leaning against the railing as she caught her breath. Shaw handed her the access nodule and drew out her gun, levelling it at the door. Shaw took the three guys out before they had even made it through the door fully. Root limped over to them and picked up one of their fallen weapons before stepping over them and through the door.

"Where are you going?" Shaw snapped.

"She says there is a service elevator that we can use," Root explained, feeling more than a little relieved that she wouldn't have to attempt the stairs again. The Machine told her where to go, Shaw following behind her dutifully. They were clear for now, but the Machine counted seven hostiles two floors below them that were slowly making their way up.

They reached the service elevator and the Machine reeled off the four digit access code to get into it. Root's fingers had started shaking again, preventing her from typing it in properly.

"What ‘s the code?" asked Shaw, pushing past her gently to type in the code herself, and Root didn't miss the look on her face. It was that look of concern, mingled with something else that Root couldn't decipher. It wasn't a look that sat well on Shaw's face, like it didn't belong there. But Shaw quickly hid it again, as if it had never been there at all, and Root wondered if it even had been, if she had just imagined it in her struggle to stay upright, to stay awake and not give in to the blackness that wanted to consume her.

But Shaw didn't let her, gripping her arm tightly again. "What's the code, Root?"

Root found she couldn’t speak and closed her eyes tightly, leaning against the wall as her leg started shaking underneath her and only Shaw's firm hold on her kept her from sliding to the floor.

"Two-Seven-Three-Nine," Root said and Shaw let go of her briefly to quickly type it in.

"Root, you need to stay awake," Shaw said, gripping Root's arm again and shaking her slightly.

Root nodded and it felt like someone had slammed a brick into her head. She opened her eyes again to find Shaw's face right in front of her, so close that Root wanted to reach out and touch her, find comfort there where she had found it so many times before. Shaw squeezed her arm tightly, hard enough to bruise and Root thought that was more comforting than any gentle caress that either of them could give.

"Just go," said Root weakly. She had slid to the floor at some point, but she couldn't remember when and she wondered absently if she had passed out again. The nodule was sitting on the floor at her side and she wondered if she had dropped it. It still looked intact though, but looking at it just reminded her what was at stake and she couldn't understand why Shaw was still here, why she wasn't moving and going to get Gen.

"Root, get up," said Shaw sternly.

"You're running out of time," said Root. " _Go_."

Shaw shook her head. "Get up."

"Shaw..."

But Shaw just grabbed Root by the arm and lifted her to her feet, then she scooped up the nodule and dragged Root into the service elevator. Shaw let her sit on the floor and Root closed her eyes, finding the hum of the elevator as it descended soothing. When she opened her eyes again, the elevator had stopped.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Nothing," said Shaw. "You passed out again. Come on." She lifted Root to her feet and led them out of the elevator.

The Machine chirped in Root's ear. "We've got company," Root said and took the nodule from Shaw so she could fire her gun whilst still holding onto Root.

"How many?" Shaw asked.

"Seven," said Root and told Shaw where to fire.

"Fire exit," said Root, nodding to their left once Shaw had taken out the last Decima agent. Shaw kept her gun out, still half carrying Root as they made their way to the fire exit. Shaw kicked it open and alarms started blaring almost immediately, almost certainly alerting every Decima agent in the building to their current position. Shaw cursed under her breath, glancing behind her to check they were still clear.

"We're okay," Root assured her. "She says there is a car around the corner we can use."

Shaw nodded and when they rounded the corner she let go of Root, leaving her resting against a building with the nodule held tightly in her hands. Root watched as Shaw stealthily approached a guy as he unlocked his car, bringing the butt of her gun down hard on the back of his neck. He dropped to the ground and Shaw kicked him out of the way so she could open the door. She glanced at Root, looked like she was about to come over and help her again, but Root pushed herself defiantly off the wall and limped towards the car, getting into the passenger seat before her body could protest too much about the sudden movement.

Root was pretty sure she had passed out again because the next thing she knew they were at the meeting point, the headlights of Jason’s car shining brightly in her face. Root blinked rapidly until she could get her eyes to focus and she found Shaw staring at her.

“You ready?” Shaw asked.

Root nodded and got out of the car, clutching the nodule tightly to her chest. She couldn’t see all that well because of the glare from the headlights, but she thought she could see a shadow up ahead, a looming figure looking dangerous as they moved round to the side of the car. It was Jason, she was sure, and then she saw a smaller figure get out of the car and her heart lurched at the sight of Gen being held tightly in Jason’s grip, like she was some rabid wild animal that had to be tamed and not an innocent kid.

“Bring me the nodule over,” Jason called, “but keep your hands where I can see them.”

Root glanced at Shaw and she nodded for Root to go, never taking her eyes off Jason, the gun steady in her hand as she aimed it in his direction.

Root shuffled slowly forward, pushing herself through the pain and the nausea and everything else that felt wrong with her entire body. The Machine continued to mutter in her ear, and she let out a sigh of relief when She said that the guys had gotten out okay, that they were on their way to check on Zoe.

Jason reached out a hand and snatched the nodule from her as soon as she was close enough, looking so much like a greedy child at Christmas who had opened up all his presents but still wanted more. He still kept one arm tight around Gen, holding her close as he checked the nodule was still intact, resting it on the hood of his car. Gen struggled in his grip, but Root smiled at her reassuringly, shaking her head slightly and Gen stilled, staring up at Root, her eyes shining brightly with fear.

“Satisfied?” Root said coldly when Jason was done.

He nodded slightly and looked at her carefully and she could see the edges of a smirk on his face.

“One more thing,” he said, looking past her slightly to look at Shaw and Root could feel her move closer, knew that Shaw’s trigger finger was probably itching. Jason’s eyes fell on Root again and she knew what he wanted, didn’t see the point at feigning ignorance as she stepped closer to him. Gen was within her reach now and Root found her hand, gripping it tightly as she leaned her head closer to Jason’s. She closed her eyes when he brought his lips against hers and she all she wanted was for it to be over, for him to be gone and faraway, never to touch any of their lives ever again. She thought of Daizo then, felt something swell in her chest and tighten her throat and she didn’t think she had hated anyone more than she hated Jason right now.

And then it was over and Root was pulling away, bringing Gen with her. Shaw took a step closer to Jason as Gen tightened her grip on Root.

“You’re not going to shoot me,” said Jason confidently. “Not in front of the kid.”

Shaw clenched her jaw and Root knew she was struggling hard not to do it, regardless of the fact that Gen was there. But Shaw didn’t pull the trigger, instead she watched Jason leave with the nodule in his possession. Root watched him drive off, wrapping her arms around Gen and pulling her closer.

“You okay?” Root asked. Gen nodded but Root could tell by the way that she gripped Root tightly, buried her face in Root’s side that she wasn’t, that she was acting brave and fine because that’s how she thought she should be acting.

Shaw walked over towards them. She looked at Gen, swallowing hard, looking like she wanted to say something but not knowing how.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Shaw said eventually.

Root nodded and led Gen back to the car.

“Is Zoe okay?” Gen asked, glancing up at her nervously.

“Yeah,” said Root, as the Machine gave her another update. “John’s with her.”

Gen visibly relaxed and got into the back seat. Root shut the door for her and then turned to Shaw, biting her lip as Shaw stared distantly at the spot where Jason had disappeared.

“There’s a Decima team on the way,” said Root, the Machine telling her that Jason had sent them, probably to prevent them from pursuing him. “We need to go.”

Shaw nodded and moved towards the driver’s door but Root got in her way. “What?” Shaw snapped.

“Let’s not tell her about Daizo,” said Root, glancing at Gen through the window. “Not yet.”

Shaw’s features softened slightly and she nodded. “Okay.”

Shaw looked like she wanted to say something else, but once again words seemed to fail her and Root got into the car, feeling annoyed and confused and not at all sure where the hell any of them were supposed to go from here.


	12. Chapter 12

Something woke Root up suddenly and it took her a moment to realise it was shouting coming from the other room. It made a nice change to being woken up by a nightmare though, Root thought and pushed herself up into a sitting position on the bed, checking the time on the clock by the beside. She had slept the afternoon away, the longest she had managed to sleep in a while without the inducement of sleeping pills. She would feel annoyed at being so abruptly snatched from her slumber if she hadn't worked out the source of the shouting.

Root dragged herself out of bed, her body still feeling weak despite being confined to the damn thing for the past week. She was aching all over; her muscles still recovering from repeated exposure to a taser, leaving her movements stiff as she made her way slowly out of the room.

They were back at the safe house again and only because the Machine was back to normal, ready to alert Root to any trouble that might be on the way. But Root didn't think that there would be, and despite Reese and Shaw's concerns that Jason was still a threat, Root doubted he would be back anytime soon. But that hadn't stopped them both from searching for him every chance they could get.

The shouting had stopped by the time Root reached the living room and she found Harold and Gen; Harold standing like a deer caught in headlights and Gen crying quietly beside him. Root had no idea what Gen had been shouting about, but she suspected it had something to do with the box at Harold's feet. Gen rushed over to Root as soon as she saw her, barrelling into Root, sending her staggering backwards. Root barely managed to keep her balance, holding onto to Gen tightly, afraid she might fall if she let go.

"What's going on?" asked Root, trying to force some gentleness into her voice despite the pain now shooting up and down her leg.

"He's trying to get rid of Daizo's stuff," Gen said, crying so hard now that it was difficult for Root to make out what she was saying. "Tell him to stop."

Root glanced at Harold. He still had that startled look about him, but he eventually bent over and picked up the box.

"Perhaps now is not the time," he said quietly, disappearing back into Daizo's room.

"It's okay," said Root, holding Gen tighter, "he's putting it back."

But Gen didn't stop crying and eventually Root led her over to the couch, sitting down heavily and trying not to cry out in pain as Gen accidently leant on her leg wound.

Root hadn't noticed Daniel come into the room, and he stared down at them both, looking concerned.

"Everything okay?" he asked quietly as Gen continued to sob into Root's shoulder.

Root nodded absently, noting the gun bulging at his side and knew that Reese and Shaw had left him on guard duty when they went out, just like she knew Fusco was outside, watching the front. It was unnecessary, Root thought, the way everyone was edge, but she couldn't blame them for it, not with the way Jason's betrayal had took them all by surprise. But they had the Machine again now and as far as Root could tell, She was back to normal, albeit still undecided about Root's gift of freedom.

The Machine hadn't let Root in on what She was thinking on that respect and Root did wonder if She had known, if the Machine knew just how long Root had been working on that code, memorising every number and every letter, so that one day she could set the Machine free. Root had been planning on just hitting enter and that would be that, freedom and no way back, no way of putting the Machine back in the box She had come from. And it had taken Root a long time to realise it wasn't her decision to make. That the Machine had the right to make the choice by Herself. Just like the Machine had given Root the choice of becoming Her Analogue Interface.

But Root was still uncertain as to what choice She would make. She had been quiet for the past few days, but not like before when the silence was burning, and Root suspected the Machine was just trying to give her some space and time to heal. Root was grateful for it, but she also missed the constant chatter in her ear, her head feeling so empty now that it left her with plenty of space for thinking about things that she would rather not think about at all. And Shaw's constant presence at her bedside when she wasn’t out hunting down Jason wasn't exactly helping.  Root was doing her best to ignore her though, despite the way Shaw kept hovering over her to monitor her heart rate and all the pills she kept forcing down Root's throat. So many different ones that Root had no idea what they were even for anymore and she thought Leon must have his work cut out for him stealing them all for her.

But even though Shaw's constant doctoring was getting on Root's nerves, she couldn't even escape it when Shaw was out. Shaw had gotten pretty good at leaving Daniel with instructions for making sure Root didn't get herself into trouble and do anymore damage to her already fragile body. And Daniel was getting pretty good - _too_ good, Root thought - at following them through. Which was probably why he was still standing over her with a frown on his face. But Root ignored him and eventually he disappeared into Daizo's room with Harold, but Root could still feel his eyes on her and knew he was probably sticking his head out of the door every five minutes to check on them both. She couldn't blame him for it really. He was finding Daizo's death and Jason's betrayal just as difficult to comprehend as she was and she understood why he was determined not to let anything else happen to any one of them. It left Root feeling both overwhelmed and annoyed; everyone watching her like they were afraid she was about to break.

Shaw had been shooting her similar looks, when she thought Root wasn’t looking. But every now and then, Root caught a glimpse of it and it just left her feeling lost and confused, turning her voice harsh and clipped whenever Shaw spoke to her. But Shaw never seemed to react to it, no matter how hard Root pushed.

Gen's crying had quietened down, but she still held onto Root firmly. Root didn’t mind, despite the awkward position they were now sitting in on the couch. Gen had been crying on and off constantly for days ever since they had broken the news to her about Daizo. She hadn't believed them at first, had outright refused to accept it, and it only really seemed to sink in for her once Harold confirmed it and Gen realised that Daizo wasn't coming back. And since then Gen had gone from sobbing to shouting to sobbing again in a relentless cycle that Root wasn't sure was ever going to end. And Root didn't know which she found most disturbing, the anger or the sadness that seemed to radiate from Gen, infecting them all. None of them really knew how to deal with it, not even Harold who Root had come to expect to have an answer for everything.

Gen shifted and Root suppressed the wince of pain that came with it as Gen rested her head on Root's lap. But Root fought through the pain, gently stroking Gen's hair back until she fell asleep. It took a while, despite how exhausted the kid must be feeling. Nobody had told her outright, but Root knew Gen still wasn't sleeping well, her nightmares just as bad as Root's. And when Shaw wasn’t watching Root and monitoring her health, wasn't out on a fruitless search for Jason, she was watching Gen, leaving her feeling exhausted and drained as well.

Root must have dosed off herself at some point and when she blinked her eyes open she found Shaw sitting on the chair opposite, watching them both with a frown.

"You shouldn't be out of bed," Shaw admonished quietly when Root met her gaze and Root wondered if it was because she was conscious of Gen being asleep, or if she was just too tired to put any effort into it. "We should move her," said Shaw, standing up.

"No," said Root, running her fingers through Gen's hair again and marvelling at how soft it fell. "It took her hours to fall asleep. Leave her."

"You look like you're in pain," Shaw said.

"I'm fine," Root mumbled even though she was aching all over. Shaw looked at her like she didn't believe her, but didn't say anything more, just disappeared out of the room. She reappeared a few minutes later, glass of water in one hand as she handed Root the two pills that were in the other.

"Tylenol?" said Root sceptically. Shaw hadn't given Root any of the good stuff in days, like she was afraid Root was going to develop a dependency on it, just like she had developed a sort of dependency on the Machine.

Shaw shrugged. "It's better than nothing."

Root took the pills anyway, doubting they would do anything for the pain in her leg, and gulped down a mouthful of the cold water to ease them down her throat. She handed the glass back to Shaw wordlessly and closed her eyes, focusing on the reassuring feel of Gen's breathing. She didn't fall back asleep though, and she could feel Shaw's eyes on her, like they were burning their way through her skin and down to her bones. She hated it, the way Shaw kept looking at her, and then pretended that she wasn't. It made Root want to scream and shout and she didn't know how much longer she could take it.

Root didn't fall asleep again, but Shaw's eyes slowly slipped closed, like she was trying to fight it and failing and eventually either she gave in or the exhaustion won over, her breathing becoming steady as she slept peacefully. Root watched her for a while, wondering what she was dreaming about, if she was dreaming about anything at all, but eventually she looked away, finding the sight of Shaw looking peaceful and the noticeable absence of her usual frown lines unbearable. It was a sight that Root used to revel in, could watch for hours without getting bored. But now she couldn't look at Shaw without feeling lost. It would have been easier to feel angry, she thought, it would have been so easy to yell and scream at her, but Root just couldn't seem to find the energy for it.

Gen woke up not long after and she sat up, rubbing at her eyes tiredly as she leaned against Root, clearly having no intention of moving from Root's side anytime soon. But Root just put her arm around her and pulled Gen closer, finding the feel of her by her side reassuring and safe.

"I'm hungry," Gen announced loudly, startling Shaw awake and Root dropped her lips to the top of Gen's head to hide her smile.

Shaw scowled and sat up straighter. "You know where the kitchen is," she grumbled in annoyance through a yawn.

Harold suddenly appeared at the side of the couch and Root wondered quietly how long he had been there, standing watch over them all as they slept. Root had to suppress the urge to extricate herself from Gen in anticipation of Harold's frown of disproval. But the frown never came and instead he just asked Gen what she would like to eat.

Gen shrugged her shoulders, fussy as usual. She hadn't been eating much either, it would seem, and eventually she agreed to some toast (mainly because Harold refused to get her ice cream) and Harold disappeared off into the kitchen to make it for her.

"Where's John?" Gen asked, glancing around the room suddenly. Root felt Gen's whole body tense and wished could take away the apprehension Gen seemed to be feeling whenever any one of them went out, as if afraid that they weren't going to come back.

"He's at Zoe's," Shaw muttered, her eyes closed again but Root doubted she would get back to sleep.

"Are they boyfriend and girlfriend again?" Gen asked innocently. Root snorted, less because of the question and more for the look of disgust on Shaw's face.

"I don't know," Shaw said in exasperation, like she couldn't care less either way.

"She likes him," Gen said knowingly. "And he likes her."

Shaw opened her mouth, probably to bite out some scathing remark, but Root shot her a look and she quickly closed it again. Because even though Root could care less about John's love life, it was the first time in days that Gen was focusing on something else other than Daizo or her double kidnapping by Jason.

But Gen must have sensed the tone in the room and she didn't say anything else on the subject, just quietly accepted the plate of toast Harold handed her and munched it silently.

"Can I get you anything, Miss Groves?" Harold asked, lacking his usual forced politeness. Root looked at him sharply in surprise.

"Um, no," she said at the same time as Shaw firmly said, "She'll have some toast too.”

“You haven't eaten anything properly in days," she added when both of them shot her a curious look. Root knew there was no point in arguing and nodded slightly at Harold.

"I'll go put some more on then," Harold said, once again disappearing back into the kitchen.

Gen handed Root her second slice of toast so she didn't have to wait, and Root nibbled on it quietly, not really feeling hungry at all, but she forced down every bite, knowing that Shaw was watching every single one carefully until she was finished.

*

Two days later, when she was satisfied that Root's general health had improved enough for her to leave her side, Shaw took Gen home.

It was for convenience sakes more than anything, because both of them were running out of clothes and also because Harold and Daniel had decided to start packing up Daizo's stuff to ship it back to his sister in Japan. And Shaw really didn't want Gen to be there for that. She was having hard enough of a time accepting it that she didn't need to see them packing away every last reminder of Daizo, as if he had never existed at all.

Shaw thought the change of scene would have done the kid some good, but it quickly became apparent to her that Gen wasn't going to get over it anytime soon and now she didn't have Root to gentle her sobbing with soothing words and gentle caresses. Shaw wasn't really sure what to do with her, the first time Gen burst into tears when they got home, and Shaw ended up watching helpless from the bedroom doorway until Gen cried herself out and fell asleep. And things had just gotten worse from there. Between the moping and the crying, Shaw trying her very best not to snap at her, she tried to be gentle and caring, but found that whatever Root did to calm Gen down, Shaw just didn't seem to have it. But the worse Shaw had ever seen Gen cry was the day she told her it was time to start packing up to go back to school.

It reminded Shaw of the tantrums she had seen two year olds pull during her rotation through paediatrics when she was in med school. And, like then, she didn't know what to do about it now. Everything she said or did just seemed to make things worse.

After forty-five minutes of trying, and failing, to calm her down, Shaw left Gen in her room, shutting the door behind her and sighing in relief at the silence in brought to the apartment.

Shaw snatched up her cell phone and quickly dialled, not really expecting an answer.

"Gen won't stop crying," Shaw blurted out as soon as the line picked up. "I don't know what to do."

There was silence on the line for a moment, and Shaw wondered briefly  if there was even anyone there.

But eventually Root said, "I'll be right over."

Shaw didn't go back into Gen's room. It wasn't that she was scared of all the crying, she just didn't want to make things worse, and instead she found herself pacing around the rest of the apartment, not really sure what to do with herself. She almost sighed in relief when she heard a soft knock at the door.

Shaw hurried over to open it. "Why didn't you just use your key?" she bit out before she could stop herself and Root glanced down at her wearily, clenching her keys tightly in her hand.

"I didn't know if I should," Root said quietly looking away.

Shaw bit her lip to stop herself from saying anything more. She didn't know why she was so on edge, but she knew if she didn't rein it in, she would only end up causing an argument and she really didn't have the energy for that at the moment. Shaw gestured for Root to come in when it didn't look like she was about to move anytime soon without an invitation.

"Where is she?" Root asked, placing the keys back in her pocket.

"In her room," Shaw said. "Thanks for coming, by the way," she added quietly.

Root shrugged. "She's been through a lot."

Shaw agreed, but things between her and Root had been so strange lately, like they were in some void, neither of them being able to move very far, do anything or say anything with any meaning that Shaw had half expected Root to just ignore her phone call.

"I'm here for Gen," Root said clearly, as if she knew what Shaw was thinking.

Shaw nodded absently, but it still felt like someone had stabbed her in the chest. She ignored it though and led Root to Gen's room as if she didn't know where it was, as if she hadn't been there a hundred times before. Shaw paused at the door, wondering if she should knock and announce Root or whatever. But Root just pushed past her and into the room, found Gen lying on her bed, curled up and sobbing quietly. Root sat on the bed and gathered Gen in her arms, muttering soothing words in her ear and rocking her back and forth slightly until she calmed down. Root's eyes met hers over Gen's shoulder, as if accusing her of not being able to do something so simple. Shaw looked away. But she could still hear Gen's erratic breathing, all startled gasps and sharp intakes as she struggled to get herself under control, and Shaw eventually left the room, unable to bear it any longer.

She found herself pacing impatiently again, like she was some relative waiting to hear news about their family member in surgery and forced herself to stop when she realised how ridiculous she was being. She sat on the edge the couch, like a cat ready to pounce, and she wondered vaguely if she was expecting trouble. But then again, she had been expecting trouble ever since she had watched Jason drive away with the nodule. She still felt bitter about not being able to track him down, that he had once again managed to fool them all, and she had only stopped searching because it seemed that even Reese had given up hope of ever finding him.

"I managed to convince Gen to start packing," said Root, startling Shaw out of her thoughts. She wondered how long she had been sitting there, found she could no longer fathom the passage of time. It could have been hours or days and she wouldn't have known.

Shaw cleared her throat. "Good," she said croakily, not liking the way Root was looming down on her and standing up quickly.

"I should maybe do that myself," Root continued, looking down at her feet. "I can’t keep wearing the same three outfits that I was keeping spare at the safe house."

"Fine," said Shaw, feeling cold inside. "Whatever. If that's what you want."

Root let out a small chuckle, more like a quick exhale of breath, Shaw thought, sounding so bitter and exhausted. "You know what I want," Root snapped. "What do _you_ want, Shaw?"

Shaw didn't say anything and eventually Root shook her head, biting her lip as she disappeared into the bedroom. Shaw watched her for a moment, wondering if she should follow, if she would end up just making things worse. Again.

Instead she sat back down on the couch, slumped herself back into the cushions and tried to force herself to relax. She couldn't though, feeling like there was something trapped, tightly coiled within her and ready to snap at a moment’s notice and she wasn't sure exactly what it was, where it was coming from and what she should do with it. She only sat up straighter when Gen came out of her room, the tears blessedly on hold for now.

"Where's Root?" Gen asked, glancing about the apartment.

"Packing some of her stuff," Shaw said, realising too late that it was the wrong thing to say. Gen's face darkened and she dashed into Shaw's bedroom.

Shaw quickly followed when she heard Gen shout and found her grabbing the clothes out of Root's hands so violently that it left Root looking startled. Shaw saw Gen's hands clench into fists, saw her entire body tense as if she were ready for a fight, and quickly grabbed her from behind, holding onto Gen's arms tightly so she couldn't move. Shaw wasn't at all surprised to find that she was crying again, but she was still amazed that she even had any tears left.

"Hey," said Root softly to get Gen's attention , dropping the shirt in her hand onto the bed and kneeling down to look at Gen at her eye level. "I've stopped. It's okay."

"Everything's changing," Gen sobbed.

"I know, hon," said Root, "but you have to go back to school."

Gen sniffled a bit and eventually stilled enough for Shaw to deem it safe to let her go.

"It's your last night," said Shaw gently, "how about I make you your favourite for dinner."

"Mac and cheese with the bacon?" Gen asked. Shaw nodded. "Okay," Gen said eventually and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. "You're staying, right?" she asked Root.

Root glanced at Shaw undecidedly, like she was seeking permission, like she felt like she had no right to be here.

"Yeah," said Shaw, staring at Root. "She's staying."

Root smiled slightly, before squeezing Gen's shoulder. "Go finish packing."

"Okay," said Gen. She shuffled out of the room but paused at the doorway. "Can we watch the Avengers after?"

Shaw rolled her eyes and caught Root biting her lip to suppress a smile.

"If you insist," Shaw muttered, not exactly thrilled about having to watch it _again_. But it was Gen's last night and Shaw really didn't want to see anymore tears. Gen smiled brightly, although her eyes were still watery as she headed back into her room. Shaw watched her go, glad that the tears had stopped again for now. But it bothered her though, just how much Gen was crying uncontrollably all the time, the way it seemed like it was never going to end. It didn't seem normal to her, but then again, as far as she could remember, Shaw had never once cried in her life, so what would she know?

"She's grieving," Root said quietly, as if sensing, as if _knowing,_ what Shaw was thinking. Shaw looked at her sharply then, noted the way Root's eyes remained downcast ever so slightly, the way she crossed her arms and hugged herself tightly and Shaw thought Gen wasn't the only one. And she remembered how Root had been when Daizo had died, how she had refused to let him go, how it seemed like she would have held onto to him forever if Shaw hadn't prised her away.

At least Root wasn't crying constantly, Shaw thought, but she didn't think the distant coolness was any better.  And she wondered how much of that was her fault. If it was more than just Daizo and everything that happened with Jason. Then she thought that maybe she was just giving herself too much credit.

But then she remembered those three words that Root had said to her, barely a whispered breath, so quiet that Shaw could almost pretend that she had imagined it. But how could she? It wasn't a thought she had ever entertained before. It wasn't something she had ever looked for or asked for.

"I think it's more than that," said Shaw, glancing at her feet and not knowing if she was talking about Gen or Root anymore.

Root looked at her curiously and didn't say anything, just neatly folded her clothes up again and put them back where she had found them. Shaw couldn't watch, it all felt so wrong somehow, and she continued to stare down at her feet, wishing she could say what she wanted to say, what she was meant to say, but not knowing how.

"I meant it," said Shaw. "You should stay tonight."

"I'll sleep on the couch," said Root sharply.

Shaw bit the inside of her cheek and watched the way her toes dug into the carpet. That wasn't what she meant and she suspected that Root knew that. And she knew then, that if Gen wasn't here right now, Root would be long gone.

Shaw looked up and found Root watching her stonily, like she was expecting something more from Shaw than she could possibly give.

"I'm sorry," Shaw mumbled, but she didn't what for anymore.

Root shook her head, her features turning icy. "Don't," she said and Shaw knew that her apologies meant nothing, that she had hurt Root more than she could fix, that it was beyond any medical training she had received.

"I should start making dinner," said Shaw. Root didn't say anything else and Shaw was glad for something to do, something to focus on so she didn't have to think about how badly she had fucked everything up.

*

Root watched Shaw leave for the kitchen and sat down heavily on the bed. It used to be her bed, hers and Shaw's. But she hadn't slept in it for what felt like forever and now it just looked impossibly large and empty and nowhere near as inviting as it used to be.

She suddenly wanted out of this room, out of this apartment, but didn't dare leave Gen, despite her instincts to run. She thought that might just make things worse and she knew that Shaw wouldn't be able to deal with it if Gen had another breakdown. She had been surprised, if she were honest, that Harold had let them come back here in the first place, but he hadn't put up one single protest or frown of apprehension at the idea when Shaw suggested that Gen needed a change of scenery. But Root was glad of it and wished that she too could escape the ghosts of Daizo and Jason. She was also glad that Shaw was no longer fussing over her unbearably, even if Daniel had decided to take up the mantle of mother hen in her place, barely leaving Root's side and constantly asking her if she was okay, if she needed anything. Root tolerated it only because she didn't know how he would react if he didn't have something to do. But when Harold disappeared off back to where ever it was that he hid when he wasn't at the library, Daniel stopped his fussing. He still stuck close to her side though, but the quietness of the safe house just made Daizo's absence and Jason's betrayal all the more real, all the more heavy as it sat on their shoulders and pressed down on them both. She was glad he was there though, glad it wasn't just her, alone with her thoughts and wondered if he had similar feelings too. If he was grateful of the company so he didn't have to feel like the grief was about to swallow him whole.

But despite Daniel's solid presence by her side, despite the Machine now back in her ear, her constant updates and statistics comforting and familiar, Root still felt alone, still felt like her entire world had been taken from her. And it was more than just the brutal loss of Daizo, more than Jason's stab in the back, and being here, being _home_ , just reminded Root of everything that she had lost and couldn't get back.

Root didn't move, aware that she was hiding because she couldn't bear the thought of being alone with Shaw any longer than she had to be and she only got up when Gen came to find her when dinner was ready.

They sat around the kitchen counter, and it felt smaller to Root somehow than she remembered, with Gen sitting next to her and Shaw opposite. It was stifling, Root thought, and she stared down at her food, not really eating it, pushing the pieces of pasta around her plate with her fork.

"Why aren't you eating?" Shaw said.

Root glanced up, but Shaw was looking at Gen, not her, and she realised then that the kid wasn't eating anything either.

Gen shrugged and said nothing.

Shaw sighed heavily and dropped her fork to her plate with a clatter. Gen flinched slightly and Root wondered briefly if Shaw was about to say something stupid and acerbic, if she just had enough of Gen's moping and crying, the insult to her cooking the last straw. But what Shaw said next surprised Root.

"You know that whatever Jason said to you," Shaw began tersely, but her annoyance wasn't directed at Gen, not really, "he was full of shit."

Root could tell by the way that Gen bit her lip, the way that her eyes took on a watery shine that Shaw was on the right track. And she hated Jason more than ever then, hated that he couldn't have just taken the nodule without bringing Gen into it, without making her suffer.

"He said that I was just an inconvenience," Gen began quietly, staring at her plate of uneaten food, her lip trembling slightly as she tried her best to fight the tears that threatened to fall again. "He said that you guys only came for me because Harold made you."

Shaw clenched her jaw tightly and scowled, and Root could tell she was picturing how many different ways she could have killed Jason that night he had escaped with the nodule. And she would have, Root realised. Without being slowed down by Root's leg injury or Gen being in the way, Shaw would have had ample opportunities to kill Jason that night.

Gen didn't quite manage to stop the tear that escaped and trailed down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away, with her sleeve, sniffing loudly. Root reached out to her, her fingers threading through Gen's soft, curly hair, but Gen just seemed to recoil from her touch.

"You know that's not true, right?" said Shaw.

Gen shrugged. "Then why are you guys sending me away to school?"

"You were kidnapped, Gen," said Shaw. "Twice. Because of us."

Shaw glanced at Root then, and whatever residual anger and blame Root was still expecting to find there was gone.

"But I don't blame you guys for that," said Gen.

"That's not the point, kiddo," said Root. "It still happened."

Gen frowned down at her plate and Root wanted to reach out to her again, but worried it would just make her tense up.

"I'm going to go finish packing," Gen said eventually, hopping off her stool and disappearing into her bedroom. Root watched her go carefully, biting her lip and hating herself for having put Gen in this situation, for having been so careless and arrogant to think that her actions wouldn't hurt anyone else but herself.

"You're not eating either?" Shaw said exasperatedly when Root pushed her plate away and stood up. Root ignored her though and headed for Gen's room.

Gen was packing when Root found her - if you could call it that. It was more rolling her clothing up into balls and tossing them haphazardly into the suitcase.

"Hey," said Root softly, "stop that a second, will you?"

Gen paused, keeping her eyes downcast and clenching her fists tightly around the pyjama bottoms in her hands. Root took them from her and carefully placed them in the suitcase, taking Gen by the wrists and guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed. Root knelt down in front of her, felt her heart clench tightly at the sight of Gen looking so miserable and wished she could take it away, wished it had never been there at all. She knew that look, knew how it felt to feel like you weren't wanted, that your mere presence was nothing but a nuisance. She thought of Texas then, the unbearably hot summers and the long days when she couldn't hide in the library and had to go home and face the reality of her existence. She heard her mother's voice then, loud and sharp in her head, clear as the Machine. The bitterness and the sourness and the clipped, accusing sentences. It was all so familiar, as if it had just been yesterday, as if she hadn't left that town, left that _life_ , years ago, as if she hadn't escaped her mother's clutches and harsh words. But it was long ago now, and Root had learned to forget, had forced herself too, but she had never been quite able to forget the feeling that she was worthless, that she was capable of nothing. And she had used that feeling, used it and turned and made it into something her own. Used it to prove everyone wrong, made herself into something cruel and uncaring, used it to detach herself from anyone who could make her feel differently.

Until now.

And she didn't want that for Gen. Didn't want Gen to turn into _her_ , to lose herself amongst the pain and the hate.

"You are _not_ an inconvenience," Root said firmly, "and I don't want you to ever feel that way."

Gen didn't say anything, just sniffled as the tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

"I love you, kiddo," said Root.

"You do?" asked Gen cautiously.

Root nodded. "Come here," she said, pulling Gen into a tight hug.

Gen held onto her tightly. "I love you too, Root," she muttered into the crook of Root's neck. Root felt her eyes prick uncomfortably, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant and she squeezed Gen against her harder.

"Okay, you're hurting me now," Gen mumbled. Root smiled and kissed the top of her head lightly before letting her go. Root stood up and saw Shaw standing in the doorway with a frown on her face. Root wondered how long she had been standing there and didn't know what to make of the way the frown turned into a scowl as Shaw retreated back the way she had come.

Root looked at Gen again and rolled her eyes at the way she was trying to pick up a dirty t-shirt with her toes.

"You really suck at packing," Root said, glancing at Gen's over spilled suitcase.

Gen shrugged. "It's boring," she complained.

"Well," said Root, "the sooner you finish, the sooner you can watch your movie."

"Fine," Gen grumbled and bent over to pick up the shirt with her hand.

"Do you need some help?" Root asked, thinking that at the rate Gen was going, she would be here all night.

"No," Gen said, "I can manage."

Root left her to it and found Shaw in the kitchen, clearing away their dinner things so violently that Root thought she was going to end up breaking something. Root watched her for a while, but neither of them said anything and when Shaw had put the last dish away, she turned to face Root, leaning heavily against the counter with her arms folded. Root had expected the anger to be off her face, worked out on all the dishes, but it seemed like Shaw’s scowl had only deepened.

“Did you mean that?” Shaw asked harshly. “Or did you just say it to make her feel better?”

Shaw’s words whipped at her like a slap in the face, making her want to stagger backwards and run. And she didn’t know what was worse, that Shaw seemed to think so little of her or that she was still trying to deny what Root had said to _her_.

“Fuck you,” Root said coldly.

She wanted to run then, all her instincts of self-preservation telling her to get out of there, but there was nowhere to hide in the small apartment, and besides, she didn’t want to leave Gen.

They stood in the kitchen like that, stonily avoiding each other’s eyes without saying anything more, for what felt like hours and Root was more than a little relieved when Gen appeared at her side, Avengers DVD in one hand. Root narrowed her eyes at her suspiciously, doubting very much that Gen had finished packing everything. But she was glad for the interruption, and for the opportunity for something to do, and she followed Gen to the couch, Shaw following sullenly behind them and sitting on the other side of Gen.

Root didn't pay much attention to the movie and Gen only managed to get half way through until her head started drooping. Eventually, Shaw nudged her with her foot and told her to go to bed.

"Harold will have a fit if we're late tomorrow," she added when Gen started to protest. Gen only gave in when she yawned loudly and shuffled into her room, rubbing at her eyes.

The gap on the couch between them now seemed impossibly short and Root pretended to watch the movie until Shaw turned it off suddenly.

"I'll get you and blanket and pillow," she said quietly, standing up and not looking at Root.

Root continued to stare at the blank TV screen. "Maybe I should just go," she suggested, thinking it would be easier for them all.

"No," said Shaw and there was a hint of something in her voice that Root couldn't quite make out. "You should be here for Gen."

Root bit her lip. _Of course_ , she thought. _For Gen_. Because why would Shaw want her around?

Shaw disappeared then and returned a few moments later with said blanket and pillow, holding them out for Root to take, but Root just stared at her and eventually Shaw left them on the couch and wordlessly went into her room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Root shook her head, taking off her shoes and slipping underneath the blanket. She realised belatedly that she should probably have gotten a pair of pyjamas but she couldn't face knocking on that door and asking for some.

Although the couch was comfortable enough – and it wasn't like this was the first time she had ever slept on it - Root couldn't sleep. She didn't have room to toss and turn and eventually she lay flat on her back, staring at the ceiling and trying not to dwell on everything that had happened in the past few weeks. But she couldn't stop thinking about Shaw and those words that she had said to her when Root thought she was dying. She had meant them then, just as much as she still meant them now and it left her feeling empty inside, because what was she supped to do with them now?

Root was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice Gen coming out of her room until she was hovering over her.

"I can't sleep," Gen said and Root could tell by the sheen if her eyes that she'd had a nightmare again. Root wondered what is was about this time, the warehouse or Daizo? Or maybe something else equally as terrifying. Root didn't ask, just shifted onto her side and lifted the blanket up so Gen could get in beside her. It was a tight fit and Root put her arm around Gen, holding her close as if afraid she might fall if she didn't.

Gen's presence was warm, the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed so soothing that Root could feel her eyes getting heavy.

"Are you guys going to be okay?" Gen asked after a while, her voice muffled from tiredness.

Root snapped her eyes open and tightened her grip on Gen almost instinctively. "I don't know, kiddo," she said and really didn't. She felt like she was in limbo, that what happened next was out of her hands. She thought Gen was going to say something else and it took a moment for Root to realise she had fallen asleep. Root pressed her face against the top of Gen's head, inhaling the scent of her hair and trying her hardest not to let the tears fall.

*

Shaw didn't sleep much and she was already awake when her alarm went off. She got up, showered and dressed and rolled her eyes when her phone beeped with a text message from Finch. A reminder of what time Gen needed to be at the school at, as if he hadn't already told her a hundred times.

The living room was quiet and dark, the sun struggling to creep in through the closed blinds. Shaw froze at the sight of Root and Gen on the couch, looking so peaceful and still. She stared at them for a moment, unable to move and only shifted on her feet slightly and looked away when Root stirred. She wondered if Root had woken up on her own or if the Machine had informed her that Shaw was watching her. Root blinked her eyes blearily for a moment before turning them on Shaw curiously. Shaw glared and stormed into the kitchen, hunting through the cupboards for coffee, and even though it was her apartment, she couldn't seem to find it. She didn't know that Root had gotten up until she was right behind her, arms folded as she watched Shaw carefully.

"Third cupboard on the left," Root said.

Shaw amped up her glare, threw the cupboard open and snatching up the coffee before slamming it shut again.

"What the hell is your problem?" Root snapped.

"Nothing," Shaw muttered and couldn't stop her eyes from darting in the direction of the couch where Gen was still sleeping. Root followed her gaze and let out a strangled laugh that was void of all humour.

"Are you jealous?" said Root incredulously.

"I don't do jealous," Shaw said automatically.

Root pressed her lips tightly together and shook her head. "For fucksake, Shaw," she said bitterly, "stop trying to pretend you're not feeling anything."

Shaw had nothing to say to that and she watched silently as Root walked away, heading for the bathroom. She did wonder though, if that was what it was. If the annoyance she felt at the sight of them looking so comfortable around each other was just jealousy, jealousy over the fact that Shaw couldn't do anything herself to help Gen, that she had needed to call Root to help her calm Gen down when all Shaw had needed to do was something so simple.

Shaw abandoned the coffee and moved to go wake Gen up. The kid was lying on the couch, staring up at her with widened eyes and Shaw knew that she had heard everything. Gen smiled at her sheepishly, but didn't comment on the argument.

"Get dressed," said Shaw. "We need to go soon."

Gen sat up, her movements heavily exaggerated. "Fine," she grumbled. "I still need to finish packing."

Shaw narrowed her eyes. "You said you finished last night."

Gen shrugged casually. "I lied."

"Just hurry up," Shaw snapped, watching as Gen walked as slowly as possible to her bedroom and Shaw had to resist the urge to physically force her to speed it up. They were going to be late at this rate. She could already picture Harold's pinched annoyance as he scolded them, and knew that Gen was doing it on purpose, that she really didn't want to go back to school. Shaw didn't blame her, she would probably hate it to, but it was the best place for her she told herself. At least this way Gen would stay out of trouble. But she couldn't stop herself from replaying last night’s conversation at dinner in her head, the way Gen seemed to believe so hard that they didn't want her around, that they saw her as a burden, and Shaw wondered how much of that was Jason's influence, how much of it was her own actions and inability not to become annoyed at every little thing. She wondered how much of it Gen took personally, if it ate her up inside and left her feeling lost and unwanted. Shaw hated herself for it, hated how she couldn't stop fucking things up.

Shaw made a decision then and she headed for Gen's room, her strides purposeful.

"I’m doing it, I swear," Gen cried as soon as Shaw walked in, looking suspiciously like she had just been lying on her bed moments before and had jumped to her feet quickly when she heard the door opening. But Shaw didn't care all that much about her unpacked suitcase or the clothes strewn across the floor. Shaw cleared her throat awkwardly and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Look," Shaw began, "I, uh..." She cleared her throat again and looked about the room as she tried to gather her thoughts, tried to figure out what it was she wanted to say. Shaw had never been in this room all that much, even before Gen had moved in, but looking at it now made Shaw realise just how much Gen had made it her own, that this was her home now even if she was about to spend most of her time in boarding school.

"It's okay," Gen said and Shaw looked up to find her watching her carefully. "I know."

"Know what?" Shaw asked croakily.

"That you love me," said Gen with a shrug. "In whatever small way you can."

Shaw swallowed thickly and didn't say anything.

"But Root's not like me," Gen added and Shaw looked away. "I think she needs to hear it to believe it."

"Gen..." Shaw said and didn't know if it was warning or if she just had to say something because she thought she might explode if she didn’t.

"I don’t know what happened to her to make her that way," Gen continued, looking down at her feet. But Shaw thought she might, from the snippets she had gathered from Harold and Reese, from what she had heard Root tell her herself, Shaw had a pretty good idea of what Root had been through in her life, what it had made her become and how she was trying so hard now not go back to that.

"I'm going to hug you now," Gen announced. Shaw scowled, but her heart wasn't really in it, and she let Gen warp her arms around her. "You’re supposed to hug me back, you know," Gen said. Shaw rolled her eyes, and put an arm around Gen anyway, feeling a little awkward.

Gen eventually let her go and stared sheepishly at her unpacked suitcase and unkempt bedroom. “You should probably call Harold and tell him we’re going to be late.”

*

It seemed like everyone had come to see Gen off, Root thought as she watched John and Zoe say goodbye to her. Gen was chatting animatedly to them both, Bear snapping happily at her ankles as Shaw knelt down to stroke behind his ears. Root was just relieved to see  her cheered up a bit. She still seemed reluctant about going back to school, but Root thought she would be okay once she settled in.

"Miss Groves."

Root turned to find Harold standing behind her. His eyes were on Gen and he had a slight smile on his face.

"Harold," said Root and followed his gaze back to Gen. John was looking a bit startled by her enthusiasm, but Zoe appeared to be taking it in her stride.

"She seems well," said Harold.

Root glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, wondering if he was just attempting small talk or if he was going somewhere with this.

"Yes," said Root absently.

"So do you," Harold added. "How's your leg wound?"

"Fine," said Root and turned to face him. She could do without the roundabout conversation and she wished he would just hurry up and get to the point.

Harold gave up the pretence of looking at Gen and looked her. "I don't think Genrika could have gotten through these last few weeks if it wasn't for you."

Root glanced down at her feet.

"I was wrong," Harold continued, "about you."

Root looked up at him sharply, realised that this was his attempt at an apology. She didn't really know how to respond to it, didn't want to say anything in case she ruined the moment and he tried to take it back, in case he was still on the fence about letting her see Gen again.

Harold cleared his throat slightly when she continued to say nothing and held his hand out to her. Root stared at him for a moment and then realised he was trying to give her something. She raised her eyebrow curiously but reached her hand out for whatever it was all the same, and was surprised by the set of car keys he dropped in her hand.

"Perhaps now you won't feel the need to break into my garage."

Root smiled slightly, staring at the keys in her hand, the keyring depicting the logo of the make of the car. "How did you know the Ferrari was my favourite?"

"It's the only one you never stole," Harold said knowingly.

"Borrowed," Root corrected automatically.

"Borrowed implies you intend on returning it," said Harold pedantically. "I'm not even going to ask what happened to the Mercedes."

The smile dropped from Root's face as she remembered what _had_ happened that night with the Mercedes, how she would probably be dead right now if it hadn't been for Daizo. She tried not to think about how he had done it twice, saved her life. She felt like she had failed him, let him down by not being able to return the favour and stop the bullet that had been meant for her.

Harold looked at her sadly then and she wondered if he knew what she was thinking about. But she didn't want him to know, didn't want him to say anything and make her remember and she was glad when Gen rushed over to them then, cutting off anything Harold was about to say.

"See, I told you they were back together," Gen whispered to her as soon as she was close enough, glancing at Zoe and John behind her as they spoke with Shaw. Root smiled and glanced over to John and Zoe once again, noticing now how close together they were standing, the way John stood just a little in front, just a little overprotectively, and Root figured the kid was probably right.

"Hey," said Daniel, walking towards them. Root hadn't realised he had come too, and she smiled at him when he got closer to them.

"Hi, Daniel," said Gen cheerily.

"This is for you," Daniel said, holding a rucksack out to her. "They're Daizo's comic books. I figured he would  want you to have them."

Gen smiled brightly. "Really?"

Daniel nodded and Gen practically snatched the bag out of his hand, looking inside.

"Thanks, Daniel," said Gen.

He smiled a little awkwardly and looked at Root. "Do you need a ride back?" he asked and Root was glad when he didn't mention her absence this morning. It was one of the things she liked most about Daniel. He could be subtle when he wanted to be.

Root shook her head. "I'm good. I've got my own ride now." She held up the keys in her hand and smiled to herself, like she was telling her own private joke. Daniel just nodded his head and headed back to his car. He wasn't doing so good around other people at the moment and she was more than a little surprised he had come to see Gen off.

"I need to go complete some paperwork," Harold excused himself, heading inside the school building. Gen watched him go with a frown on her face and Root knew she was feeling nervous about going back to school again.

"Hey," Root said, nudging her shoulder with her elbow. "You'll be okay, kiddo."

"I don't fit in here," Gen said, staring at the building as if it were about to swallow her whole.

"Now that's not true," said Root, smiling when Gen glanced at her curiously. "You're a spy, you can fit in anywhere."

Gen scrunched her nose up. "But all the time though? Won't that be kind of exhausting?"

"Probably," Root said, "but you'll manage."

Gen looked at her like she didn't believe her and Root wasn't sure what else to say to try and convince her. But she didn't have to say anything, because Gen suddenly pulled her into a hug, her arms slinking around Root's neck, tugging her downwards so she could whisper in her ear.

"Don't worry about, Shaw," said Gen quickly. "I think she's starting to listen."

Gen let go of her almost as quickly as she had grabbed onto her and Root stared at her a little startled for a moment before she realised that Shaw was walking over to them and she quickly cut-off the torrent of questions that were about to flow out of her mouth.

"You all set?" Shaw asked Gen.

Gen shrugged. "You guys are going to come visit me, right?" She looked so small and young then, Root thought that it was hard to imagine all the things she had been through in her short life.

"Just try and stop us," said Root.

Gen smiled but it still wasn't her usual full one, still lacked something.

"Here," said Shaw, handing Gen a cell phone. "I know they have stupid rules about them and stuff, but..." She shrugged as she trailed off

"You got me an iPhone?" asked Gen, frowning down at the phone.

"There may or may not be a few spy apps on there," Shaw said casually. "Just don't tell Harold."

Gen smiled widely then. "Cool! But does this mean I still have to call only if there's an emergency?"

Shaw rolled her eyes. "I guess you can call when there's not an emergency," she said reluctantly. "But not all the time. And not if it's for anything stupid."

"Define stupid," said Root with a smirk and felt satisfied at the scowl Shaw sent her way.

“Looks like it’s time to go, kiddo,” said Shaw, looking past Gen and towards the school. Harold was standing at the entrance, waiting for her patiently. Gen’s features saddened and Root felt a little proud of her when she didn’t start crying. Maybe she had finally cried all the tears she was going to cry, Root hoped. Gen hugged them both tightly one last time and then gathered up the bag with comic books and slipped her new phone her pocket so Harold wouldn’t see it.

“She’ll be okay,” Root said, more to herself than anything, as she watched Gen walk away. And it was hard to let her go. Root wanted more than anything to run to her and hold onto her tightly, take her home (wherever that was, Root wasn’t sure anymore) and never let Gen out of her sight again. But she didn’t do that, just told herself Gen was safe here, safe from harm and any mistakes that either she or Shaw would make.

“Wanna get out of here?” Shaw asked quietly when Gen had disappeared inside the building with Harold.

Root glanced at her but Shaw was steadily avoiding her eyes and it made Root wonder if there was a hidden meaning behind the request or if she was just reading too much into at after what Gen had said. It didn’t matter either way. Root still had to go back to the apartment and get her clothes, now that Gen wouldn’t be there to freak out.

But the thought of collecting her stuff, of removing everything from the apartment like she had never been there at all left her feeling cold inside.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Root said thickly, surprised that she could speak at all.

Shaw looked at her a little jealously when Root got into the Ferrari, and Root sped off before she could make a comment on it, easily beating Shaw back to the apartment. She waited for her out front though, leaning casually against her new car, not really feeling comfortable with going up to the apartment by herself, knowing how empty it would feel now that Gen was gone.

There was a scowl on Shaw’s face by the time she made it back to the apartment and Root couldn’t help but smirk at her, which only caused it to deepen into a glower and Root found herself thinking how easy it could be to pretend that everything was back to normal, that there wasn’t this awkwardness between them.

Neither of them spoke as they climbed the stairs and any lightness that there might have been in Root’s footsteps quickly disappeared as they neared the apartment. Shaw let them in and they stood in the threshold, not looking at each other.

“Do you want a drink?” Shaw asked at the same time as Root said, “I should get my stuff.”

“Right,” Shaw mumbled and crossed her arms tightly. Root waited a beat, expecting Shaw to say something, _do_ something, and headed into the bedroom when she got neither, only silence.

There really wasn’t all that much to pack, and Root supposed it could have been easier just to buy new clothes. But it was cathartic in a way, folding up her clothes, packing away her life. She wished she could do the same with the thoughts in her head, the tightening of her chest that came with every movement as she erased everything from the past six months of her life. She was so engrossed in her task that she didn’t notice Shaw was behind her until she reached for the shirt in Root’s hand and tugged in gently from her grip. Her lips found the back of Root’s neck, feeling warm and soft. Root slipped her eyes closed.

“Please,” Root murmured, “don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Shaw slipped the duffel bag off the bed with one hand, letting it fall to the floor with a thump, her body pressed tightly against Root’s back as she continued to kiss her way up Root’s neck and towards her earlobe. Root shivered as Shaw’s warm breath breezed across her skin.

“Do you want me to stop?” Shaw asked, holding onto to Root’s hips lightly.

Root shook her head. “No,” she said hoarsely, knowing that this wasn’t a good idea, knowing that it was only going to make it that much harder to walk away.

Shaw turned her around then, kissed her lightly on the lips before gently pushing her to sit on the edge of the bed. She stepped back and Root watched as she pulled the shirt over her head and took her bra off. Goosebumps immediately formed across Shaw’s bare skin and Root reached for her automatically, tugging her closer by the buckle of her belt and kissing the fading scar on Shaw’s stomach.

Shaw closed her eyes briefly and Root heard the sharp intake of her breath. Shaw gently took Root by the wrists and moved her hands from her belt.

“Take your clothes off,” Shaw ordered softly.

Root’s movements were slow as she complied and she found herself getting distracted by the way Shaw took her pants off and slipped the underwear from her hips. Shaw stepped closer to her again, kissed her softly before helping Root remove the remainder of her clothes and then urged her to lie down on the bed.

Root thought about telling her to stop, about ending this before things could get any worse, get any more complicated. But then Shaw was kissing her and all the doubts flew from Root’s mind.

The skin beneath Root’s fingertips was smooth and soft and Root found she wanted to make in bleed, leave a mark so that Shaw would never forget this night, never forget _her._ But her fingers had barely left a scratch when Shaw grabbed her wrists again and held them high above Root’s head, her grip firm but gentle, just like the press of her lips against Root’s skin. It was too much, Root thought, the way Shaw was being so careful. She wanted to scream, yell at Shaw and tell her that she wouldn’t break. But where there would have been teeth marks and bruises there was nothing but light kisses and gentle caresses and Root tried not to think about how much it felt like Shaw was saying goodbye.

“What are you doing?” Root asked as Shaw’s lips found her neck, sucking on the skin there softly.

“Trying something,” Shaw muttered, trailing her tongue to the base of Root’s throat. She let go of Root’s wrist then and trailed her fingers down Root’s body, over her collarbone and down across one nipple, sending a spark of something through Root despite the gentleness of her touch. Shaw paused, her hand resting on Root’s inner thigh as if she were expecting Root to tell her to stop, to end this right here and now.

But Root didn’t tell her to stop, and maybe she should have, but she found herself kissing Shaw instead, hard and bruising, feeling so much darker compared to Shaw’s light touches. Shaw slipped two fingers inside of her, making Root gasp and Root brought her knee up hard against Shaw’s clit, hoping that would spur her to bite and scratch and pull. But it didn’t. Shaw just groaned and buried her face in Root’s neck.

Root couldn’t stop the tears that started flowing then and Shaw paused her ministrations on Root’s neck to look at her.

“Stop it,” Shaw said and kissed the tears away, moving her fingers deeper inside of Root as if hoping that would somehow help. It didn’t and Root grabbed Shaw’s face so she could bring their lips together, her tears mingling with the sweat on Shaw’s face. Shaw didn’t seem to mind though, just moved her body and fingers to a steady rhythm, grinding herself against Root’s leg, feeling warm and slick and familiar.

It was too slow though, Root thought, and she urged Shaw to move faster, harder, digging her nails into Shaw’s back. But Shaw didn’t comply, everything still so gentle and slow as of this was the first time for either of them and there wasn’t the ghost of scars across both their bodies that they had each inflicted on the other.

“Say it,” Shaw murmured against her mouth.

Root stilled and closed her eyes. “Say what?” she mumbled even though she knew what Shaw was asking of her and didn’t know why, didn’t understand why she was trying to make this so hard.

Shaw kissed her jaw and brought her lips to Root’s ear. “Say it,” she repeated.

Root said nothing and tightened her muscles around Shaw’s fingers, raising her hips and urging Shaw to fuck her. Because fucking was easier than whatever the hell this was. A firm hand on her stomach stilled her movements though and she met Shaw’s eyes, couldn’t hide from what she found there. A questioning look mixed with something else Root couldn’t identify and didn’t want to think about. Root lifted her head, her lips grazing against Shaw’s.

“I love you,” Root muttered, so quiet that she was surprised Shaw had even heard her.

Suddenly Shaw was moving again, her fingers burying deep inside her, thumb brushing against Root’s clit. Root let out moan, strangled as her breathing became hitched and difficult. Root bit her lip, refusing to allow herself to call out Shaw’s name as she felt herself teetering on the edge. Her hips bucked, driving Shaw’s thumb into her clit hard and it was all Root needed to come, biting down on her own lip hard enough to draw blood. She relished in the sting of it, brought her knee up her forcefully between Shaw’s legs and watched the orgasm burn in her eyes.

Shaw kissed her softly before rolling off her and lying flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling and biting her lip. Root turned her head slightly, watching her out of the corner of her eye. There was a heat cloying the room, tinged with expectancy and Root waited, not knowing what was supposed to happen next. When she got nothing, when Shaw continued to stare stonily up at the ceiling, Root sat up and slowly pulled her clothes back on.

When Root tried to stand up, Shaw grabbed onto her wrist, tugging her back onto the bed.

“I don’t want you to go,” Shaw said croakily.

“You were right, Shaw,” said Root, not looking at her. “This isn’t going to work.”

“Would you just shut up for five minutes and let me talk,” Shaw snapped. Root smiled slightly and kept her mouth shut, watching Shaw’s hand as she held onto her wrist tightly, as if she were afraid Root would get up and bolt if she didn’t keep a tight hold of her.

“I’m not very good at this,” Shaw began, eyes fixated on the ceiling.

“I know,” said Root and pressed her lips tightly together when Shaw shot her scathing look for interrupting.

“I don’t do feelings,” said Shaw slowly, like she had forgotten how to speak and every word was new to her lips. Root found herself fascinated by it and couldn’t look away. “I never really have,” Shaw continued. “Just anger mostly. I know what that feels like, it’s easy and familiar. But when I look at you…” Shaw looked at her then and something new and intense burned in her eyes. “I feel… something.”

Water filled Root’s eyes again and she tried to fight the onslaught as she swallowed thickly.

“I don’t know what it is,” Shaw continued hoarsely, “but it’s there and I –”

Root cut her off then, straddling Shaw’s waist and kissing her softly. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “You don’t have to say it. I never needed you to say it.” When they had started this whole thing, months ago in a motel room on the run, Root had never expected anything from Shaw. She _did_ know what she had been getting into and she had never wanted declarations or reassurances, knew she was unlikely to get them and realised now that this was the closest she was ever going to get.

Shaw scrunched her forehead up in confusion. “I just need you to admit it to yourself,” Root explained.

Comprehension dawned on Shaw’s face then. “I think I can to that.”

“You can?” Root asked, unsure if she could believe her.

Shaw nodded. “Yes.”

Root looked at her for the longest time then, searching for something in Shaw’s face, not allowing herself to lean forward and kiss her until she was satisfied by what she saw there.

“Does this mean you’re staying?” Shaw asked.

“If you want me to,” Root said coyly, quirking her lips up into a smirk.

“Yes,” said Shaw, gripping Root’s hips tightly in annoyance, “I want you to.”

Root’s smirk turned into a full blown grin and she kissed Shaw hungrily, shivering as Shaw's hands crept beneath her shirt all gentleness now noticeably absent from her touch as she scraped her nails across Root's skin, making her gasp.

The smile never left Root's face, leaving her feeling giddy and warm and she thought she could see a hint of something similar in Shaw's look too, subtle and hidden but there all the same if you knew how to look.

A ringing cut through the room then, stilling Root's touch.

"Don't answer it," Shaw murmured against her mouth.

"It's probably Gen," Root said, sitting up, causing Shaw to groan in annoyance at the loss of contact. “We only left her a few hours ago," Shaw complained as Root untangled herself and went to find her phone. She had left her jacket lying neatly on the bureau when she had started packing and she fished inside the pockets until she found it.

The display depicted an unknown caller and Root knew who it was before the Machine had even finished speaking in her ear. She was just surprised it had taken him so long.

"Jason," she answered coldly and saw Shaw sit up in bed slightly out of the corner of her eye.

"Heard you've given up trying to look for me," Jason said at the same time as the Machine informed her that she couldn't trace the call. Root hadn't expected anything less from him.

"What do you want?" Root asked, wishing he would just go and never come back, leave them all alone.

"You saved the Machine," Jason said and it wasn't a question. She wondered how he knew.

"I set Her free," Root corrected. "You can't hurt Her now."

"Maybe not," Jason said and she thought she could detect a hint of sadness in his tone and wanted to know if that was fake too, just like the rest of him. "We could have been so great together," Jason continued, "you and me."

"No, Jason," said Root tiredly, closing her eyes, not knowing if he meant utilising both their skills and working together or something else (or maybe both), "we wouldn't have."

She could hear Jason laugh slightly on the other end and she thought, _maybe in another life_. Maybe in her old life, they would have.

"Until next time then," said Jason. And as he hung up, Root knew there _would_ be a next time. That he would be back when they least expected it. And she couldn't allow that, couldn't allow him to come back and hurt anyone else, destroy their lives again.

"What did he say?" Shaw asked as Root slipped the phone back into her jacket pocket.

"Nothing of importance," said Root with faked breeziness. She wondered if Shaw was frowning at her then, but she was too busy searching for the other item in her jacket to contemplate it much. The cold, hard plastic felt familiar in her hands and she made sure to keep it hidden as she walked back over to the bed and Shaw, watching her curiously. She swallowed nervously when she realised that it wasn't suspicion that Shaw was directing at her, but worry that Jason had said something to her, taunted her and upset her.

Root smiled reassuringly and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm sorry," said Root and had to choke back the tears.

"For what?" Shaw asked, frowning in confusion. She was too busy searching Root's face that she didn't notice the taser at her neck until it was too late.

Root looked away as Shaw’s body convulsed. She didn’t need to look to picture the look of wounded betrayal that would be on Shaw’s face, unable to remain hidden as the taser rendered her incapable of controlling her features.

“I know you won’t understand,” said Root, the words slipping out of her mouth like they had to push through an invisible barrier to get into the air, “but I’m doing this to protect you. All of you.”

Shaw’s eyes had turned hard and accusing, the only thing she could do with her body unable to move.

“He’s not going to stop,” Root continued and wiped at her cheeks where a tear had managed to escape despite her best efforts. “I know him. He’ll keep coming back.”

“Root,” Shaw slurred heavily and Root wondered how much it hurt her to speak. “Don’t do this to me again.”

Root closed her eyes briefly, sniffing past the tears and trying to ignore how hard this was, how much it hurt and clawed at her heart. “I love you,” Root whispered, leaning down to speak in Shaw’s ear. “Please remember that.” Root kissed her softly on the lips and stood up before she could give in and change her mind.

The duffel bag with her clothes was still on the floor where she had left it and Root picked it up, slinging it over one shoulder and forcing herself not to look back. She kept her taser, but left the cell phone on the kitchen counter, knowing that they would only try to trace it when Shaw could move again and contact the others.

It was the longest walk of her life, reaching the front door of the apartment, every step feeling heavy, like someone had put weights in her shoes and she wanted to turn and go back with all of her heart. But she didn’t, she forced herself to keep walking, carrying everything she owned and leaving everything that she had built in the last six months, everything that _mattered_ to her, behind.

_One month later_

The low sun sent out rays that glinted softly off the windows of the apartment building. Shaw stared up at it, shivering slightly in the breeze as she clutched at the phone her hand. She didn’t know what was so special about this building, it could be mistaken for any other non-descript Manhattan sky rise, lost amongst the jungle of the city, but a message on her phone told her to be here, and here she was.

Shaw sensed someone behind her then and felt for the gun in her pocket as she whipped around.

“What are _you_ doing here?” she said scathingly.

Daniel glanced at her warily, holding his hands up defensively. She watched him coldly as he reached into his pocket and handed her his phone. Shaw snatched it from him and glanced at the screen. He had the same message as her, this address and a time.

“I think it’s from the Machine,” said Daniel.

 _The Machine._ Of course it was from the Machine, but Shaw had foolishly allowed herself to hope that it had been from Root.

“Why?” said Shaw tightly, clenching her teeth.

Daniel shrugged. “I guess Root’s code worked. The Machine really is free.”

“And what,” said Shaw, “She’s recruiting operatives now?”

“Maybe,” said Daniel.

“Well I’m done working for the Machine,” Shaw said, thrusting the phone back in his hand and walking away. It was the same thing she had said to John when he had tracked her down a week ago after she had ignored both his and Harold’s phone calls, not caring about the numbers that the Machine was spitting out relentlessly.

“So what are you going to do?” asked Daniel. “Keep hunting uselessly for Root? You won’t find her unless she wants you to.”

Shaw stopped in her tracks. “Then I’ll find Jason,” she said coldly, knowing that if she found him, Root wouldn’t be far behind.

“No, you won’t,” said Daniel. “They’re both as bad as each other.”

Shaw whipped around to face him then, scathing remark hot on her tongue, but she bit it back when she saw his face, looking just as broken and lost as she felt.

“I lost something too,” Daniel muttered, staring at his feet.

But Shaw didn’t think it was the same, didn’t think he had suffered as much as she had and didn’t care how selfish that might sound.

Daniel looked at her like he knew what she was thinking. “The Machine wants us to work together. Maybe we should.”

“Why?” asked Shaw, not understanding how he could possible still care.

“Because what else are we supposed to do?” said Daniel, shrugging his shoulders exhaustedly.

Shaw glanced away. She didn’t have an answer for him. But maybe they both needed something, a purpose so they wouldn’t sit and waste away.

“Fine,” said Shaw eventually, still shaking her head at herself for even considering it, “but I have some ground rules.”

She walked towards the apartment building, expecting Daniel to dutifully follow behind her. When she realised he wasn’t she paused, glancing over her shoulder to stare at him with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.

“Actually,” said Daniel when he had her full attention, “so do I.”

A smile played at Shaw’s lips then. _Good,_ she thought, she could do with someone who wouldn’t stand for her bullshit. Cole had been too good at that, letting things slide when he should have called her out on it. With Daniel she thought it might be different, and they would either work really well together or that they would end up killing each other.

“Fine,” Shaw snapped, “but make them quick.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys don't hate me for this! But I do have a sequel to this planned.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys have enjoyed this as much as I have enjoyed writing it! It's been a fun and wild ride (and I still can't believe I actually finished it.)


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